


In Search Of Your Glory

by NuriaSchnee



Category: Good Omens (TV), Good Omens - Neil Gaiman & Terry Pratchett
Genre: Anal Fingering, Anal Sex, Angst, Aziraphale Has a Penis (Good Omens), Aziraphale Has a Vulva (Good Omens), Aziraphale and Crowley Have Their Picnic (Good Omens), Blow Jobs, Bottom Aziraphale (Good Omens), Bottom Crowley (Good Omens), Broken heart causes a very bad demonic reaction, Crowley Has a Penis (Good Omens), Crowley is a Mess (Good Omens), Crowley's Fall (Good Omens), Crowley's Hair (Good Omens), Demon Crowley.exe has stopped working, Emotional Sex, Explicit Sexual Content, Fluff, Friends to Lovers, Friendship, Getting Together, God Loves Crowley (Good Omens), God Ships Aziraphale/Crowley (Good Omens), Hand Jobs, Heavy Angst, Injury, M/M, Marriage Proposal, Near Death Experiences, POV Aziraphale (Good Omens), POV Crowley (Good Omens), Porn with Feelings, Post-Almost Apocalypse (Good Omens), Post-Episode: Good Omens: Lockdown, Post-Traumatic Stress Disorder - PTSD, Power Bottom Crowley (Good Omens), Protective Aziraphale (Good Omens), Romance, Service Top Aziraphale (Good Omens), Service Top Crowley (Good Omens), Smut, Snake Crowley (Good Omens), South Downs Cottage (Good Omens), Stripping, Suicidal Thoughts, Switching, Top Crowley (Good Omens), just a bit
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-06-05
Updated: 2020-10-20
Packaged: 2021-03-03 19:55:50
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 8
Words: 49,635
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/24561184
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/NuriaSchnee/pseuds/NuriaSchnee
Summary: Aziraphale didn't know a heart could literally break. Let alone a demoniac one.When July arrives and Crowley doesn't show up and doesn't answer the phone, Aziraphale decides to go check on him to his flat. He finds him unconscious and not responding on his bed, with a dark mark marring his chest which is quickly consuming him to death. Suddenly, Aziraphale finds himself in a rush to save his friend's life.
Relationships: Aziraphale & Crowley (Good Omens), Aziraphale/Crowley (Good Omens)
Comments: 54
Kudos: 190
Collections: AwakeTheSnake





	1. We've been falling for all this time and now I'm lost in paradise

**Author's Note:**

> Prologue

He couldn’t think. He was just staring before him, constantly, and his body moved enough to keep him walking. But he couldn’t think. Couldn’t. Really couldn’t.

Aziraphale, or what was left of him, crossed the city of Santorini during the late hours of that summer night, surrounded by the joy and happiness of humanity. He walked and walked, not even once looking at any of them, and tightened his arms around the dark clothes secured against his chest.

How he found the hotel exactly, he didn’t know. Maybe enough of him remained for his senses to work still. However, when he reached the hall, the receptionist greeted him as if he’d been living there for a while, and gave him the replacement of the key “he’d lost the day before”, so he could enter the room he shared with “his husband”. He heard another crack opening in his dry heart at the words and he regretted operating that miracle over the receptionist, instead of miracling himself inside the room.

He managed to get into the lift, reach the door of the room, and open it. Aziraphale was suddenly immersed into the hotel’s dark room. He stared at it, quiet on his place. He stared with hollow and lost eyes into the shadows, broken by the moonlight that entered through the huge windows, cerulean thanks to the huge pool on the balcony. It touched the huge bed, and the table on a corner, and the bathroom’s door, but it didn’t touch the petrified angel.

He caught a glimpse of one of Crowley’s shirts resting on the bed. He noticed an empty bottle on one of the nightstands, and an old book from his bookshop on the other. He stared, not moving, unable.

Then, he caught a faint trace of the demon’s scent lingering. He hugged the clothes in his arms tighter and the flashes started to invade his blank mind. The air returned to his lungs abruptly, unaware that he hadn’t been breathing. Aziraphale started to hyperventilate, heart beating wildly, hurting, wanting to break the cage of his chest.

He saw the dark cave again. He heard himself screaming desperately, searching for Crowley. He saw the cave, and the water. The cave and the water all over again. The clothes on the floor. Crowley’s clothes. Water.

It was holy water. _Holy water_. And Crowley wasn’t there. It just smelled of celestial power and sulphur colliding. And he couldn’t feel him anymore. He couldn’t feel Crowley. He wasn’t there… Anymore. He’d been late.

Crowley was gone. Gone forever. Crowley didn’t exist anymore. Crowley had destroyed himself. And there was nothing he could do about it. He hadn’t fought enough to keep him in this world.

He let him go. He let him walk away and now he was gone.

Aziraphale started to tremble as tears began to gather in his eyes, fire igniting in his lungs, shattering finally with the realization that he’d never see those yellowish and serpentine eyes sparkling with mischief, or hear his teasing laugh when mocking him. He’d never feel his arms around him, comforting during the late hours of the night, his reverential lips kissing him or his husky voice, breaking the darkness as their bodies joined together under the softness of his silky sheets.

He’d never see Crowley again. Not even if he searched his Fall. He was neither in Hell, or in Heaven. He’d disappeared. He’d succumbed to a kind of harm that Aziraphale hadn’t been clever enough to see.

Crowley had done it for him. And he wished he’d taken his existence away too, if he wanted to go. He wished to burn in his conjured hellfire and follow him to destruction. Anything was better than knowing he wouldn’t come back. Anything but keep living with the knowledge that Crowley had sacrificed himself for Aziraphale’s sake.

And he’d never be able to take back the last words he’d said to Crowley. He’d never be able to tell him how much loved he was, never again.

There weren’t more chances. No more furtive meetings. No more the demon returning, no matter what Aziraphale said to him the last time or how much time had passed. Crowley wasn’t coming back. He wasn’t coming back. He was dead.

Dead. Destroyed completely. Vanished.

And, now, Aziraphale was alone.

His knees gave in, falling to the floor, a desperate cry tearing his voice, a scream never heard before coming from an angel, one that could’ve made the whole universe shatter. He bent over, hugging Crowley’s clothes as tightly as he could, tears falling down his cheeks, sobs and shouts carrying the name of the demon filling the room. Aziraphale called for him, called for him as if Crowley could hear him still. And even with the certainty that everything was over, that he was gone… He still had a brief hope that, at any minute, two bony but soft hands would reach for him, straightening him, and a warm voice would murmur ‘angel’ as two serpentine eyes looked at him adoringly. He still hoped for Crowley to appear suddenly, to tell him that what he’d seen had been a misunderstanding, that he was alive, that he was there with him, and would never leave.

But he was dead. And Aziraphale had been left behind with just memories, a few personal possessions tainted with tragedy, and an empty eternity without Crowley.

And it was Aziraphale’s fault.

Only his fault.


	2. My ghost, where'd you go?

_One year before_

“Good night, angel.”

Crowley hung up slowly, letting out a sigh, and deflated against the back of the chair. His eyes fluttered closed as he tilted his head backwards, his chest feeling heavier than before. He shouldn’t have let his restlessness drove him to say those words, to invite himself over. His mind had blurred instantly, losing all common sense when he’d heard the angel ramble about cakes, excitement clear in his voice. Aziraphale had been so thrilled while talking about it that he immediately needed to be there, witness the radiance of Aziraphale with his own eyes. And now Crowley wasn’t alright. Again.

“ _Fuck_ …” He breathed out to himself alone, in the loneliness of his flat, the sepulchral silence crushing him.

That had been incredibly stupid, really, and he loathed —in equal parts— how restless he felt for it now and having been just a little bit forward for a second. He didn’t know what he had been expecting really, after the Apocalypse-that-wasn’t. Well. He _did_ know what he expected and it was fucking conflictive. He’d had hope and he _fucking_ hated it. Nevertheless, at the same time, he was fully content with their new situation and wouldn’t change a thing about it.

After stopping the Apocalypse, after surviving Heaven’s and Hell’s rage over them and reaching their freedom… Crowley dared to hope something new between them would blossom as well; he just hoped although. In all those months he hadn’t hinted a thing, and didn’t intend to start now. He had more now than he ever had. He saw the angel almost every day and their days were filled with quiet dinners, not-quite-sober nights at the bookshop and peaceful walks under the sunlight. They rejoiced in the freedom of being together without worrying and Crowley felt… Happy. Truly happy. Just for having that possibility, to have an eternity of being with Aziraphale. No matter in which terms, meanwhile friendly.

It had been a relieving time, honestly. For once, they had been able to know each other without imposed barriers and their past sides breathing down their necks. And it was fucking fantastic. Crowley had enjoyed every damned minute, even if his heart had broken a few times when the drunken conversations had turned serious, and he learned about how much pain harboured Aziraphale in his soul. Heaven had broken him in ways that he had been completely unaware of and it destroyed Crowley. He wanted to go back to Heaven and destroy it all, with all the fucking creatures of that bright and damned place trapped inside. Nevertheless, when Aziraphale broke down in front of him, he just took a deep breath, bit down his own need to shed tears and comforted the angel, usually letting him cry in his arms —something that had started after the first time it happened, when Aziraphale had tilted towards him on the sofa, and Crowley had grabbed him in panic, stupidly thinking he was about to fall; it still had him trembling whenever he had him so close—.

So, it’d be a lie to say they hadn’t been both healing of millennia of invisible ropes tied to them and silent and not-so-silent abuse. Probably, it’d take them some more time than a few months. Their mutual company and shared freedom helped a lot.

And then the pandemic happened. Lockdown. Distance.

Crowley was going mad with boredom and longing, but well… As if that was something new for him. The problem was that he never thought he’d be feeling that way again, now he could see the angel whenever and as much as he wanted. Aziraphale was still stuck with rules and doing the right thing and Crowley wanted to follow along, if that was what he needed now. It was horrible to think of another abysm of uncertain time until he saw the angel again, but he promised himself to respect the angel’s resolutions. Even if they didn’t get sick or others sick, or could travel without stepping on the street, Aziraphale felt better quarantining with the rest of mortals and, even if he wouldn’t admit such a thing, Crowley was fond of that side of him. Aziraphale was Aziraphale, even after all, and he loved him just as he was.

The problem was that, after two months, Crowley was already fucked up with his loneliness and his spiralling thoughts. Being in his flat, alone, crushed by the eternal silence and emptiness, made him feel trapped and… Fuck his damned soul… He was sad.

Hearing the angel’s voice had been like being showered with blessed light, something he could still recall well if he tried, scratching the memories of times when his eyes weren’t serpentine and his wings didn’t resemble the very night. And he slipped. Crowley didn’t mean to —he had hinted enough things during their rushed week to save the world and themselves and it wouldn’t happen again—. But, when he had started to picture Aziraphale smiling, baking, being genuinely himself… His heart had betrayed him.

Crowley hadn’t voiced his love for the angel not even to himself. It didn’t matter, really. He had known since the very start, when standing at the edge of Eden, with the white wing of Aziraphale sheltering him from the first storm, giving him that warm feeling that always shook him whenever the angel was near, that unique feeling. He had to admit it hadn’t been easy to hide, to keep it to himself; but after everything, having Aziraphale alive and close to him, however, it was, had proved to be the only thing that mattered truly to Crowley. So, he still had hope, of course, that someday things changed between them into an unexplored place he burned to visit. But would never act on it, not if the angel did not want to.

That’s why Crowley felt so restless now. He had promised himself not to push, not even if that slightly. He had learned very well how badly hurt he ended every time the angel had to put stop to any innocent insinuation he’d made. He never meant to add a double meaning to those words but, somehow, he managed to make his friend uncomfortable anyway.

Considering those things, he was keeping his more romantic feelings tightly trapped inside himself. He hated it when they got out of his control, even if, with time, he had managed to reconcile with the fact that he was a demon fucking deep in love with an angel. He sometimes thought he’d drown in how much he loved him.

Making a strangled sound —between self-loathe, sadness and longing— Crowley woke up from the chair. It was true that he had told Aziraphale he’d wait a couple of days before dozing off for a few months, but now he felt he needed his mind to stop immediately. He needed to sleep off that restlessness. He was sure nothing would be different once he woke up; probably Aziraphale hadn’t interpreted anything strange about his offer to slither over and accompany him. He was just being a dumbass, once more.

When he took the first step towards his bedroom, he stumbled, almost falling, backing on the edge of the table and hissing. A sudden pain went through his chest. It lasted just a second and, as fast as it had come, it was gone.

Crowley let out a single pant, placing a hand over his chest, sensing his heart abnormally accelerated, and he straightened up. Was he having a stroke? Could he have that? It didn’t seem probable.

Breathing slowly, he advanced, keeping his palm against his chest, trying to keep track of whatever was happening to him. His limbs started to feel numb as he walked towards his bedroom and, when he laid on his bed, staring confusedly at the ceiling, his skin was covering with cold sweat.

Something was happening to his heart, clearly. If he had survived fucking Apocalypse and died of a human-like stroke, he’d be very pissed. However, discorporating wasn’t good news right then, considering his actual relations with Hell. If he ended up down there again, they probably wouldn’t let him return. They might even discover he wasn’t himself during the trial. Definitely, he couldn’t let that body die.

He rose his hand, ready to snap his fingers and take himself beside the angel, when a stabbing pain crossed his chest again. For a few seconds, although eternally long for him, he was consumed by a burning sensation taking over him whole, his heartbeats harmful, his whole being seeming about to implode.

Crowley’s hand fell limp over the mattress and sudden darkness dragged him into nothingness.

When Aziraphale hung up, his chest felt heavy with worry.

Crowley’s voice had sounded strange and he knew the demon enough to notice his disappointment even without seeing him. He let out a sigh, feeling just the same. He’d hoped that Crowley would put up a little more resistance, that maybe he would break a few rules. He didn’t need to get out really; with a snap of his fingers he could materialize right in front of him, brightening up the bookshop, as he usually did. However, something inside Aziraphale had held him back from asking him directly.

_I’ll set the alarm for July_. Those words were haunting him, immersed in the crushing silence around him, the fact that Crowley had prolonged his slumber one month not passing unnoticed.

He reclined on his chair, rubbing his face with his now-too-cool hands, feeling the urge to call him again. Aziraphale didn’t know why it was so hard for him now; he’d been so thrilled to hear Crowley; that’s why he called him. Just the sound of his voice had made him feel delighted, until his celestial glow almost had materialised in that plane of reality.

After six millennia of brief meetings and long farewells, surviving the Armageddon-that-wasn’t and get free from their respective lots, Aziraphale had grown extremely used to have Crowley around. He’d always been his constant, even when his mind still pulled towards Heaven. Well, what he thought Heaven was. Nevertheless, the cruciality, the only thing that never had vanished, or flattered, or abandoned him… Was Crowley.

He always had been around him, popping up whenever and wherever. Sometimes, he appeared after centuries and greeted him as if they’d never parted. Sometimes… Well, practically all the times, the farewell was Aziraphale’s fault. He’d been the one pushing away for centuries.

Crowley had mocked him for it, been furious about it, and Aziraphale knew he had suffered greatly. Even so, that had been before the Apocalypse. After everything, Crowley never mentioned it again. Contrarily, he seemed to have more understanding about what Aziraphale had been through. He didn’t know the exact reason why the demon had changed his mind and behaviour towards it, although he suspected it had to do with something Crowley had seen in Heaven or the fact that, even if briefly, he had thought him irreversibly dead.

Aziraphale couldn’t forget how he found Crowley after returning to Earth. He couldn’t get out of his mind how broken his voice had sounded, babbling and dragging the words. _I lost my best friend_ , he said and Aziraphale’s heart would’ve broken, if he happened to have one in that very moment.

In the latest times, the angel had suspected Crowley cared more about him than he’d suspected in the past. _Demons can’t love_ , was a mantra he’d heard around Heaven too often and, as always, he trusted so. He trusted so, until 1941, with a bag with his precious book untouched, handed by Crowley. He’d saved him, even after the argument they had decades ago, after shoving off so roughly. And could’ve been because he needed the Arrangement to go on, because he still needed Aziraphale’s help; however, saving the books had no reason, aside from doing so because he knew they were important to Aziraphale.

When he stretched his hand to grab the bag, the realization was still hitting him, his whole focus changing, completely owned by Crowley now. His palm closed, but his fingers lingered over Crowley’s, out of his mind’s control, suddenly needed to reach the demon, sense the reality of his presence. And, then, after a brief moment, Crowley pulled away, turning around and getting out the rubble. Aziraphale stood there, his fingertips warm, his heart beating wildly, and he sensed something coming to the surface of his consciousness.

The demon cared for him, in an unconditional way. And, at that, Aziraphale realized his feelings towards the demon were more than a side effect of the general love his angelic nature produced. He loved Crowley. He’d fallen in love with him, irrevocably.

Scared was a poor word to describe how he felt. Such revelation left him utterly terrified but, in the hours after the church’s incident, closed alone in his bookshop, the memories of Crowley through the centuries accompanied him. He realized how many times the demon had acted unselfishly towards him, how many things he’d done just to please Aziraphale. He couldn’t believe he hadn’t seen it before.

Those feelings, however, made it harder to cope with whatever was going on between them. Their nature was still there, as well as the fact that their sides controlled their existences. And he needed to believe the order was there, that those believes he’d protected since forever were true. He needed to believe in Heaven, when he should’ve stayed beside Crowley instead.

In the end, he lost it all: his faith on Heaven, his side, his bookshop… But Crowley had been there, reaching for him even after all the harm he’d done to him. Crowley found him, stayed, and forgave everything just to embrace their new freedom. Crowley was his side, always had been, and he’d been too blind to accept such a thing. Sometimes, he wondered if he deserved the happiness he’d reached.

The months after the almost-Apocalypse had been the best in his existence. The peace of living without fear was crushing, in the best of ways. He needn’t hide anymore. He could embrace his friendship with Crowley without fear. They could be side by side and together outside, and Aziraphale could relax and enjoy it because… Nobody could object now. It wasn’t wrong, because now the only rules were theirs. This was their side.

Nevertheless, Aziraphale still felt how Heaven had him tied sometimes. Crowley had realized too and always had comforted him when a breakdown happened. There had been very few occasions in Aziraphale’s existence on Earth when he’d cried, but those months he had more than ever. And Crowley had been there. Crowley was always there.

The demon never pushed him about that now and, probably, he thought Aziraphale was having another moment of past influence acting on him, right after he’d tried to ask to come over. Aziraphale had freaked out a little, true, but it had been the thought of them around his very little flat, closed for who knows how much time, that made his head spin and start to babble. His little flat above the bookshop was nothing like Crowley’s, where there could be more space between them if needed.

Not that he exactly needed space between them; sometimes, although, he did. For some reason, he still hadn’t wrapped his head around their new possibilities. He didn’t feel brave enough to approach the demon past the friendship they had now. It was too precious to be shattered and Aziraphale wasn’t completely sure where Crowley stood.

Aziraphale was an angel and, thanks to his realization in 1941, he could point out the sensations radiating from Crowley every time they were together. It was love. Crowley not just cared about him, but loved him. However, he was certain Crowley was holding back the feeling, probably because he knew Aziraphale could sense it. At first, he thought Crowley’s feelings were just soft enough to catalogue them as friendship’s ones.

Thar changed one night around the eighties, when Crowley dropped by the bookshop at night and they ended up drinking. After a while, with his body deflated against the sofa, his glasses abandoned somewhere and drunk enough to be completely relaxed, Aziraphale sensed his barriers dropping, waves of stronger love hitting him. Overwhelmed, he couldn’t listen anymore to whatever Crowley was babbling about. All he could sense was the demon’s love towards him, his unfocused yellow eyes sparkling whenever placing on him and the swirl forming inside his heart at the realisation. Aziraphale wouldn’t ever admit he started to invite the demon over more often, just to figure out how strong Crowley’s feelings were, but he certainly did.

He never figured out, not exactly. It was strong, that was unquestionable; he didn’t need to feel it, although. During the week before the Apocalypse, he saw more of Crowley’s than he ever had. He hoped that, after everything, Crowley would put down the restrains. He didn’t. And Aziraphale still wondered.

There was no hurry, not anymore. Aziraphale daydreamed about many things with Crowley, some not very angelical —another thing he wouldn’t admit—, but he was content with how things were now. He was content with being Crowley’s friend, openly, and offer him all those things he’d denied him once. Aziraphale wanted to be the friend Crowley always had considered him to be.

Crowley had accepted anything, even if it wasn’t enough, just because he wanted to remain by Aziraphale’s side. Aziraphale had realised, in the course of those months, that Crowley wasn’t that confident. His Fall and Hell had broken him deeply, and the angel hadn’t suspected how much. Aziraphale had felt even worse, every time he’d had a peak of Crowley’s brokenness, of his loneliness, realizing he’d only made it worse through the millennia. He knew he’d to make up for all that hurt and wanted to help him heal.

They had eternity. If there was a time, a place, a moment when their feelings met on the same page, Aziraphale would gladly and openly love Crowley, in all the many ways he yearned to. Meanwhile, he would wait and, even if painfully, their dance would continue.

Aziraphale couldn’t shake the worry after a day had passed, but didn’t call again. He felt his presence flatter right away, after their conversation, and Aziraphale realized he’d dozed off already. Even if disappointed, he resigned himself to wait and let him have his nap. He drowned himself in books and baking for months, and got lost in nights of wonder, the demon always the protagonist.

When July arrived, he threw himself to the phone right away, calling him, hoping Crowley was awake already. On the First, he didn’t pick up. He tried again on the Second, the Third, the Fourth…

When the Eighteenth arrived, after the umpteenth call, Aziraphale got out of the bookshop on the first hour of the morning, heading to Crowley’s apartment.

Maybe it was nothing. Maybe he’d just overslept. Nevertheless, Aziraphale had grown deeply restless and worried with the passing of days, at the lack of presence of response of his friend. The feeling of him had been turning fainter with time; Aziraphale assumed it was due to him being deeply asleep. However, now, after months, Aziraphale could barely sense Crowley and he feared him not waking for a whole century again. He just wanted to check if he was alright; if he needed to sleep that much, he’d let him. He just needed to know he was alright.

Frantic, he entered Crowley’s building and got into the lift. The way up felt too slow, the space between the four walls too small, and Aziraphale could sense nothing but his ragged breathing, his palms sweating and his insides twisting with nerves. _Everything is alright_ , he repeated to himself, _he’s just asleep_. He focused on this loop of thoughts, trying to drown the fact that, for whatever reason, he couldn’t fully believe it.

When the lift stopped and the doors opened, he let out a shuddering breath and approached Crowley’s door, the only one of that floor, and hurried to ring the serpent bell. Trying to breathe steadily, he fixed his bowtie and waistcoat, hoping with all of him for Crowley to open the door.

Silence. One minute of utter silence.

He pressed the button again, the ring inside the flat audible. Then, nothing. Just the silence welcomed him —or cast him out— and convincing him everything was alright was getting harder.

Aziraphale repeated the motion a few times, more often, and lost count of how many in the end, desperation eating him now. He didn’t want to do this, but felt he must. Grabbing the knob, wrapping a miracle around it, the door opened without much resistance.

When the energy of the flat hit him, even before he stepped in, he knew something was wrong immediately. No more assumption. No more paranoia. Something was wrong, and it was a certainty.

He got in, closing the door behind him without his usual carefulness, and walked down the corridor. The air was thick. The horrifying vision of dried, dead plants, with brownish leaves on the floor, scared him to the point of making him run into the house.

“Crowley!” He shouted, his voice trembling with shattering fear, shivers taking over him, blood freezing. “Crowley?”

The living room was empty, table dusty. Shanking, looking at the chair misplaced and the table strangely inclined, he sensed Crowley then, ever so lightly. He turned towards the bedroom right away, rushing towards there, barely breathing now.

He stopped before the great bed, sided by two cubicles of glass, letting the morning light in, caressing the demon laying there. Aziraphale almost sighed in relief, relief that didn’t last even for a second.

Crowley was laying there, above the sheets, with his day clothes on. He looked pale and his hair, now longer, wasn’t fiery bright, as usual. Also, there was disturbing energy emanating from his body. It wasn’t completely demoniac, but it wasn’t angelic either. However, when Aziraphale focused on it, he noticed it was devouring Crowley.

“Crowley?” He stuttered, approaching the bed, kneeling by his friend.

His chest was barely moving and Aziraphale felt on the verge of tears. He touched Crowley’s hand, gasping brokenly at the icy temperature of his skin. His nature never gave him a highly warm temperature, but he certainly was warm to the touch. Not now. Now he was deadly cold.

Completely desperate, Aziraphale reached for his face, cupping it, bending over Crowley, barely noticing he was doing so. Aziraphale called him again, trembling with his face between his palms, his heart shattering at the sight of his friend, unmoving, not giving a response.

When he lowered more, and his forearm brushed slightly his chest, Aziraphale sensed a burning sensation on his skin, as if he had touched fire, even through his clothes. He rushed to look at Crowley’s chest, slightly showing thanks to the neck of his shirt. He noticed then a few twisted lines marring his skin, slightly peaking up his chest.

He probably would hate himself for doing that later, but he couldn’t think about that then. Grabbing the edge of Crowley’s shirt, he tugged it up, revelling an ugly dark mark on the middle of his chest, expanding through his skin.

Aziraphale let go of the fabric right away, backing away, covering his mouth with a trembling hand, starting to hyperventilate, tears finally falling. He felt his mind spiralling into a dark void, his body trembling and cooling at a worrying pace. However, he just could keep his eyes on his friend.

Absolutely terrified all of a sudden, like never before, and feeling his mind completely blocked, he threw himself towards Crowley, grabbing his shoulders and shaking him slightly.

“Crowley,” he muttered with a broken, pleading voice. “Wake up. You have to wake up…”

The demon continued still, the quietness of him seeming even more noticeable now he was being moved. It went through Aziraphale’s chest and he whimpered, desperate, tears streaming down his face harder, splashing against Crowley’s chest. He moved one of his hands down, slightly touching the crook of his collarbone.

Out of the blue, he was sucked back by a powerful force, darkness enveloping his senses, the feeling of being tugged in different directions and his body about to shatter giving him a broken need to scream in pain. Even so, it just lasted a brief moment, not giving him time to do so. In a millisecond, he was colliding against a muddy but hard surface, grimacing at the pain and that kept him there, laying miserably.

He sensed the rain soaking him, the mud under his body and heard the thunders over his head, somewhere in the sky that didn’t seem too far. Backing on his hands, he sat, confused and squinted to see where he was.

Wherever he was, he knew it was nowhere, really. There was nothing in sight but vast and plain floor, dark due to the rain, and the sky confused itself with the land. Nevertheless, Aziraphale caught the glimpse soon of an obscure mirage near him. A dry, dark tree, which resembled in a very gloomy way the Eden’s apple tree. Near it, under the gloomy branches, there was a creature laying with a pair of black wigs, limply extended on the floor, and a large and reddish mane messed thanks to the rain.

Aziraphale stood up right away, swallowing down the need to throw up when he did and ignoring, for now, the question of where he was, just motivated by the image before him. He ran towards the figure and dropped on his knees by Crowley’s side. He looked just like the first time they met, although everything in his appearance was dull now. He looked utterly weak, pale and almost dried out of existence. His wings looked opaque, a few feathers falling from them, splashed on the floor. There were dark circles under his closed eyes and his mouth seemed dry, even with the rain caressing his skin.

“Crowley!” Aziraphale shouted with raw desperation, tears coming back to his eyes.

His first instinct was to reach his friend, hold him in his arms, shelter him from whatever was happening. But, when Aziraphale tried to place his hands on his shoulders, they went through him, as if he was an onirism, an intangible fantasy. However, he felt Crowley’s essence over his skin, tingling him. He was there, although not his body.

Aziraphale retracted his touch, uttering a sob, falling into absolute distress. Then, the demon shuddered slightly, the softest sound of discomfort escaping him, barely audible through the rain, and his eyelids fluttered, opening just a little. A brief hint of yellow dullness hit him, staring vaguely, pupils blown wide.

“‘Zirap…hale…?” Crowley breathed out, barely.

The angel felt how his body deflated with a brief rush of relief, mixing with the worry that shook his being right then. He leaned over, his hands still itching to reach his friend, but realizing he couldn’t.

“Crowley! For goodness sake!” He cried. “What has happened to you?”

Crowley closed his eyes again, looking as if he was falling unconscious again. “You… Shouldn’t be… Here…” He whispered roughly, expression unchanging, but words coming out strangled.

“What is this place?” Aziraphale asked.

“Mind,” he just answered. “Maybe.”

Aziraphale looked around again. It made sense. He might have touched Crowley’s mark accidentally and got swallowed into the part of him that was conscious. Nevertheless, the vision before him worried Aziraphale even more. If that place was Crowley’s mind, it was falling apart just as much as his body.

He dropped his eyes to Crowley again. “Dear… What happened?” Aziraphale asked, trying to keep collected. “How much time have you been here?”

“Get out,” Crowley answered instead. “‘S dangerous…”

“I need to know, please,” he pleaded. “I need to know how to help you.”

“Don’t know…” He rasped, his eyes half-opening again, sorrow getting through the thickness of his gaze. “Chest hurt… After the call…And I just… I… Blacked out… Been here since.”

“Crowley…” Aziraphale gasped, horrified. “That’s three months ago.”

Crowley sighed, lids shutting, and his expression twisted a bit, filling with pain. “‘Ngel…” He chocked out, barely talking right, but clearly making an effort to communicate. “You’ve to get out… ‘M dying… If you’re here… I could… Drag you with me.”

“What are you saying?” He scolded him, tears burning his eyes. “I’m not letting you die, you idiot! You _can’t_!”

The demon furrowed at that. “You idiot… Don’t be stupid… Look at me. Nothing to do now. It’s been… So long,” he closed his eyes, deflating. “‘M tired...”

“Please, Crowley…” The angel begged, distressed and broken-hearted; Crowley stared at him again. “I’ll find a way to cure you, just… Resist a little longer.”

“I’m glad…” He whispered roughly, ignoring the words of the angel. “to see you again. Before goin…”

“Don’t dare to say it!” Aziraphale shut him off, crying openly. “I won’t…” _forgive you if you say it_ , he swallowed down the last words, not able to say that to him in that very moment.

Crowley sighed, his face painted with crushing sadness. “Don’t cry, angel… ‘S fine,” he moved, raising his hand slowly, trembling, the effort clearly paining him.

His fingers ghosted over Aziraphale’s chest, stopping their ascend to the angel. Crowley looked at him, his eyes completely opened, seeming to scan his face, as if he was memorizing it as if it was the first time that he was seeing Aziraphale. It was the last, the angel realized too late to do nothing about it.

“You’ll be fine,” was the last thing he said to the angel, with the most soothing voice he’d ever directed to him.

Aziraphale hadn’t time to open his mouth at that, the force dragging him into another swirl, blackness swallowing him until he collided against a hard surface again.

He gasped, shaken, reacting much faster than the first time, backing his hands on the floor under him. Although, this time, he had an attack of reaching for real, but managed to keep his body from revolting in such a manner, and screeched at a burning sensation over his left hand when he put weight on it.

Aziraphale sat, looking at it, realizing it was red as if he had been touched something extremely hot. Hissing, he realized he was near the bed’s foot. He realized, as well, that Crowley had expulsed him from his mind.

He stood, suddenly worried over how much power such action needed, and fearing the consequences that could’ve had over the demon. He threw himself to the bed again, checking on Crowley with his good hand. Still breathing. Heart still beating.

He sighed in relief, but not for much.

He hadn’t much time. If he wanted to save Crowley, he had to act quickly.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Welcome y'all to the train of angst *devilish laughter*
> 
> Find me on [Tumblr](https://nuryrune.tumblr.com/)!


	3. If I can't find the cure, I'll fix you with my love

How can an angel save a demon?

Aziraphale stayed sitting next to his friend after the first intrusion in his mind, staring at the demon without taking his eyes away, not even a single second. He was afraid that, if he did, he’d disappear forever. The hours were slipping through his fingers as if he was trying to trap a wild river in his hands, and he didn’t stop asking himself that question.

He could heal. He couldn’t bring back to life, but indeed was able to heal wounds and, if he used enough power, deadly wounds. He could invert a demoniac curse as well. However, he could do all those things on humans. Didn’t know what could happen if he tried on a demon.

The idea of killing Crowley with holiness horrified him and, as more he thought about it, more probable it seemed that such outcome happened. He didn’t dare to place his hands on the demon and use his power on him.

He didn’t even know what was happening to him. Aziraphale had seen a lot of wrecked and hellish magic during his millennia on Earth; never that; never something similar on a demon. It didn’t even feel completely demoniac. What was marring his chest and destroying him was something else. And he couldn’t discern what it was.

The first thing he managed to do was snapping his fingers, all his books about curses and demoniac symbology appearing on Crowley’s table. Nevertheless, Aziraphale didn’t move from his side yet.

Maybe he couldn’t heal Crowley due to their natures, but he knew somebody that maybe could. A young boy with blond curls appeared in his mind, a boy who had turned the world around for a few hours and faced Satan himself without hesitating. Adam was the antichrist; probably reality still responded to him and the source of his power was somehow the same as Crowley’s.

Maybe he could heal him.

If the circumstances were different, he’d have worried greatly about what he was about to do; now, he just felt a little remorse. Reluctantly, he stood up, giving a worried glance to Crowley, and went to the main room.

He found Crowley’s mobile hidden between the piles of books now occupying the table. It was clearly uncharged but, when Aziraphale picked it up, its screen lighted up as if had been always completely charged. He clenched his teeth a little and the thing was, all of a sudden, calling Anathema.

They kept in touch since everything that happened. They went to visit them a couple of times even, before the pandemic started. Even if the hour was odd —already midnight—, wouldn’t be that strange for him to call her.

He put it against his ear, feeling, suddenly, the cold sweat on his nape, his other hand still burning but numb, and his body shaking.

“Crowley?” Anathema answered, confused and her voice hoarse due to interrupted sleep.

“Uhmm… Hello, dear,” Aziraphale said hesitantly, noticing right away his voice was very faint, weak, completely affected.

“Aziraphale? What’s going on? Why are you calling so late?” She asked, although there wasn’t annoyance in her tone.

“I… Need a favour.”

Aziraphale would miracle Adam and Anathema inside Crowley’s flat the next night. Anathema would take care to tell him when the morning came and both would get ready. He hadn’t explained much, since didn’t really know much. Thankfully, she’d been open to help.

He had almost a day.

When the call ended, he returned to Crowley’s side, sitting on the bed and continued to stare at him. With the moonlight caressing him, he seemed even paler, sicker. Aziraphale’s chest tightened painfully at the sight and tried to breathe in, closing his eyes. He didn’t let the desperation fill him yet; it was not the moment to feel helpless. If he did…

He had to be there for Crowley now, whole and calm.

He opened his eyes and looked at his hand. It really looked as if he’d been burned. It hurt the same way. He tried to place a miracle over his skin to heal himself; nothing happened. He bit inside his cheek, holding back the tears, blinking them away. Aziraphale tried to block the thought that clearly his angelic power didn’t do anything against the power hurting his friend. He tried to block it with all of him and didn’t succeed much.

Two more hours passed before he could move again, when he had an idea. There was something he could do. If he couldn’t heal Crowley himself, maybe he could learn more about whatever was happening. And maybe he could bring some comfort to his friend in a way, make him know he really would try to bring him back. He needed him to know he wanted him back, desperately.

He turned around, laying down on the bed next to him —expecting another knock of force at some point—. Tentatively, analysing Crowley’s face, he placed his hand on his chest, fingertips touching marred skin.

Aziraphale felt the horrible sensation again, pulling him towards a vertiginous swirl, colliding against a hard floor when the spiral let him go. There wasn’t rain falling over him now, but his eyes caught the thick darkness all around. His ears were flooded with white noise suddenly and he didn’t know from where it came from.

He stood up, trying to find his friend. He seemed to be in a dessert. Resembled Golgotha, a little. He could barely see, the moon above him blocked with dark clouds, but he noticed a figure near, laying on the floor with two bright yellow eyes looking at him from the brief distance, above the edge of a black wing.

Crowley was covering himself almost completely with one of his wings, as if he was trying to hide. Aziraphale sighed, partly because of the reaching, partly because he was relieved to see him awake. He stepped closer and saw perfectly the demon’s pupils shrinking.

“Why?” He heard Crowley’s voice asking hoarsely, sounding weaker even than the first time. “Why don’t you ever listen, angel?”

He kneeled before him with caution and Crowley covered himself completely with his wing. Aziraphale wanted to grab it and uncover him; but he couldn’t.

“I need to know more,” Aziraphale said. “I want to heal you. I want to bring you back.”

“You can’t,” he whispered.

Aziraphale gulped, feeling his throat tightening. “I want you back, Crowley,” he breathed out. “I don’t want you to die.”

He saw the wing shaking, curling a little more over Crowley, as if he wanted to cover more what was already covered. Nothing came out of his mouth.

“What happened exactly? Did… Did somebody hurt you before you… Ended up like this?”

“Forget… It.”

The angel furrowed sadly, feeling the tears gather in his eyes again. “Help me, please.”

“I don’t want to… Push you out again,” he muttered, his voice cracking with shame. “Just… Leave me be.”

“Why?” He was falling apart again, the desperation making him shake. “Don’t you want to… Come back?”

He was silent for a long time, and his wing didn’t let him see his expression. “Can’t,” he whispered roughly, eventually. “Too late.”

“It’s not too late!” Aziraphale protested, clenching his hands, desperate to grab his friend. “Dear… I promise I’ll find a solution. Just help me here.”

Crowley was silent again and took Aziraphale all his strength to avoid bursting into tears. All of a sudden, the wing slid down through Crowley’s body, resting over his trunk, uncovering his face. However, he didn’t rose his dull eyes to the angel.

“I’d have… Done whatever for you already, back then,” Crowley muttered with a tone full of pain.

“What?” Aziraphale gasped, confused.

“I’d… Have went wherever if you asked,” he closed his eyes, furrowing as if he was in pain. “Always… You…”

“What are you talking about?” The angel rasped.

“Don’t dare to mourn, angel… I don’t regret a thing.”

“Crowl…!”

He didn’t have time to continue. The force swallowed him, pushing him out of Crowley’s mind.

Aziraphale felt as if he was waking up; he’d sleep enough times during those millennia to recognize the sensation. However, he didn’t open his eyes right away; he couldn’t. They weighed a ton. Felt like it, at least. He was vaguely aware of his body being laid down on a soft surface, although the sensation of drain and the pain harboured in his muscles were much greater. Breathing was harmful as well, and he was grateful that he needn’t to, because he’d have died very fast otherwise.

He’d never suffered that kind of pain before. Of course that he’d been hurt very badly sometimes, but that harm over him now was harder to pinpoint. It was crushing him and was all over. His eyes and mouth felt very dry and couldn’t even gasp. Every inch of him tingled painfully, thousands of invisible pins digging into his skin.

Eventually, he managed to open his eyes, finding a layer of blurriness that took a couple of minutes to vanish, revealing a clear ceiling above him and dark surroundings. His breathing became more even and he made an effort to sit up, although gasping and grunting in pain, only able to back his weight on the only hand that didn’t feel numb and horribly burned.

When he did, and caught a glimpse of a black-clothed figure next to him, he remembered and turned around to see Crowley better, almost falling on the bed again. Horrified, he stared at the black mark, now bigger, reaching his throat.

“No…” Aziraphale rasped, tears immediately appearing in his eyes. “No. No. _No_.”

He had to crawl to him, practically, his body too harmed to respond in a proper way. Aziraphale, letting the tears flow, and his heart break completely, reached for Crowley’s hand, grabbing and raising it to place his loose and cold palm on his cheek. He uttered a loud sob, sensing the low temperature of his friend’s skin, remembering how warm it had felt the night after the Armaggedon’t, when they had interlaced their hands in the bus, and stayed that way the whole ride.

“Crowley…” He cried, his soul shattering when he sensed the demon’s presence fading even more. “Please… _Oh God_ , I hope you can hear me… Resist a little bit more… I beg you. I need you to stay. I… Need you back. It’s not late. I won’t stop until you’re fine again. I promise.”

He placed a soft kiss on the demon’s palm, prolonging the touch as much as his heart allowed before breaking completely, knowing this was the first time he’d touched him so gently, had shown his feelings through it, and Crowley probably couldn’t even sense it. Maybe he’d never allow such a thing if he was conscious. But, either way, guilt hit him hard again.

Aziraphale wasn’t thinking Crowley would die. Definitely not. But… If he did… Everything the angel would’ve offered him during millennia would have been rejection. He’d always denied him, and given him so little…

Even so, he couldn’t let his feelings paralyze him now. Outside it was dark and he guessed he’d been unconscious for a few hours after the intrusion in Crowley’s mind. Suddenly worried that the hour they had agreed had passed, Aziraphale slipped off the bed and almost fell on his knees, his body weak and hurting badly. He dragged himself to the living room, gasping and grunting, and reached for the phone on the table.

Almost midnight.

He had a few minutes before miracling them there. Holding onto the edge of the table with one hand, he breathed in, bracing himself. Honestly, he wasn’t feeling strong enough to work a miracle that huge, but he had to, no matter what. He had to help Crowley.

Kneeling on the floor, gasping, feeling cold sweat covering his skin, he waited with the phone on his hand, staring at the numbers changing.

When he saw three zeros on the screen, he took another deep breath and snapped his fingers.

“Aziraphale!”

He made a sound of discomfort and opened his eyes, finding two brown pools of worry above him, hidden behind round glasses.

“Oh, dear…” He sighed, realizing what had happened.

“Can you hear me?” Anathema asked, staring to pass her hands under his shoulders, carefully.

Aziraphale nodded and let the girl help him sit on the floor. This time, he wasn’t in so much pain, but he was feeling tired like he’d never been before. Keeping his lids up was suddenly very hard and he was feeling like collapsing again every second that passed.

“I apologize,” Aziraphale whispered and rose his head enough to see Adam standing near them. “This is not the proper welcoming.”

“What is going on?” Anathema inquired, furrowing. “You didn’t say that you were sick too.”

“I’m not,” he said, trying to stand up, helped by the witch, who didn’t let him go, not even for a second.

“Are you sure?” She muttered, scanning him all over. “Your energy is completely dropped.”

“I’ve… Been trying to help, before you arrived,” he explained, dropping his eyes to the floor.

“Where is he?” Adam asked and Aziraphale looked at him with sad eyes. “I can sense him near.”

“In the bedroom,” Aziraphale sighed, his throat tightening painfully.

The boy didn’t hesitate in immersing in the depths of the flat and Anathema didn’t back away from Aziraphale, still holding him somehow. The angel gave her a brief and forced smile, trying to express a silent ‘thank you’.

They followed Adam until standing before Crowley’s bed, where he laid, completely still and looking like a broken doll. Aziraphale shivered, thinking for a moment his legs would surrender to the mix of his tiredness and sadness. However, Anathema didn’t take her hands away.

She was holding him, securely but without using too much force. It had been a long while since a human had been so close physically of him and Anathema certainly felt different from the rest of them. Aziraphale could feel her projecting a comfortable feeling over him. However, when she saw Crowley, her aura trembled, darkened, and Aziraphale felt her tensing up and holding her breath.

Aziraphale felt like crying again at that.

Adam crawled up the bed, kneeling before Crowley, examining him. Aziraphale hoped the boy could see something he couldn’t. He desperately hoped his perception could see through Crowley and find the way to save him.

“What exactly has happened to him?” Anathema whispered, not taking her eyes away from the unconscious demon. “This doesn’t feel…”

“Demoniac. I know,” Aziraphale sighed. “Not completely, at least. And I can’t… I can’t discern what it is.”

“And did you find him like this?” She asked quietly, turning her face to him at last.

Aziraphale looked at her too, sensing a thin layer of blurriness cover his eyes. “Yes,” he answered with a broken voice. “He says he… Just fainted the last time we talked through the phone. _Just like that_.”

“He says?” Anathema furrowed.

“I can… Get inside his head. He’s… Not alright inside, either,” he muttered and his eyes dropped involuntarily to his hand. He rose them before Anathema noticed, but she did anyway.

She emitted a little gasp but closed her mouth, not saying a word, just staring at the angel with concern all over her face. “What did you talk about, when you talked over the phone? Did he say something strange?” She asked instead.

“No,” Aziraphale breathed out with desperation; he’d gone through the memory a million times now, trying to find something. “Everything was rather normal and… I don’t understand…”

Anathema squeezed him closer, understanding his pain, but turned to look at Crowley and Adam soon after. Aziraphale did too. Adam was still inspecting him, his hands on his chest, not burning, not getting swallowed. He was just there, as if he was touching a statue.

After a minute of complete silence, Adam sighed, taking his hands away. He kept looking at the demon for another brief moment before turning to them, looking forsaken.

“His heart,” he muttered. “His heart is broken.”

Aziraphale froze. “W-What?”

“I can’t… I can’t heal him. I’m sorry,” he mumbled, his expression falling even more. “I don’t know how to explain. It’s… Just broken.”

Aziraphale, for a second, sensed his own soul shattering, falling on the floor and breaking, vanishing. If Anathema hadn’t had her hands on him, probably he would have crumbled for real.

Aziraphale miracled Adam back to his home. Anathema decided to stay with him for a while more.

They sat on the little table in Crowley’s kitchen, tea growing cold in their respective cups while Anathema bandaged his hand and forearm, the burn having reached higher. He couldn’t mutter a word yet, couldn’t even thank the witch so carefully treating his wound and staying by his side in the most unstable moment of his whole exitance, probably.

Adam said Crowley’s heart was broken. It wasn’t anything physical. It was something in his soul, manifesting on his body while still residing there. Anathema had inspected Crowley more and Aziraphale knew, considering the strange shine in her eyes, that she could see something too. She hadn’t told him yet.

“What do you think it is?” Aziraphale managed to breath out, after a while.

She glanced at him for a second, sorrow and unsureness filling her eyes. “I think… Adam is right. Something in him is… Breaking,” she started, reluctant. “His spirit, concretely, but… He seems trapped in the shattering. He’s…”

“Dying,” Aziraphale finished for her, gaze lost on his knees.

Anathema finished the bandage quickly when Aziraphale uttered the first sob. He bent over, feeling a sharp pain going through him, his whole body and soul shaking because of it, and he broke down. Anathema left her chair fast, kneeling before him and wrapping him in a hug, letting him cry with his face pressed on her shoulder. He hugged her back, needing desperately to hold onto the warmness, onto a life. And cried. Cried his heart out, his insides flooding with hopelessness and regret.

“He’s dying,” he cried, trembling. “Crowley is dying and I can’t… I can’t help him and h-he doesn’t want to fight… I can’t lose him _. I can’t_. And I-I _never told him_. I never told him that I…” He sobbed more, unable to say it.

“That you love him?” Anathema said, caressing his back. Aziraphale whined, nodding softly. “He loves you too, you know? I’m sure of it. He… Always looked at you as if you were his own sun, whenever you couldn’t see him staring,” she said with absolute fondness in her voice.

Aziraphale trembled harder, those words weighting as if the world had fallen on him all of a sudden. Six thousand years started to pop inside his mind, reproducing without order, a mess of memories with Crowley smiling at him, saving him, humouring him, staying by his side no matter what. Six thousand years of waiting. Of rejection. Of breaking his heart, a heart that had been always trying to reach him.

_I could hunker down in your place, slither over and watch you eat cake._

No.

_I’m afraid that would be breaking all the rules. Out of the question. I’ll see you when this is over._

No. No.

_Right. I’m setting the alarm clock for July._

No.

_Good night, angel._

“It’s my fault,” he babbled when the realization hit him and backed away from Anathema.

She looked at him, furrowing with concern. “What?”

He couldn’t breathe. His lungs were closing. He couldn’t let air in. He couldn’t. The walls were bending over him, his head was spinning. His fault. It was his fault. He’d broken Crowley. He’d been breaking Crowley for millennia, until his soul had shattered under the suffering of continuous rejection.

Aziraphale had done this to him. He’d doomed Crowley.

“Aziraphale,” Anathema gasped, scared, when he wrapped his arms around himself, gasping, feeling as if his whole body was being consumed in Hellfire.

He tried to cry out. He couldn’t. His throat was too tight. He hadn’t enough oxygen to shout. Aziraphale closed his eyes tight, tears falling non-stop. And gasped. And gasped again. And whined, trying to soothe the sensation. But there was nothing to do. He couldn’t stop his trembling, nor his tears or that rough pain stabbing every inch of his being.

“Shhh. Hey,” Anathema placed her hands on his forearms, rubbing them, trying to get his attention. “Hey,” she rose them, cupping his face, making the angel face her. “It’s alright. Little breaths. Take little breaths.”

Anathema started to take little breaths, in and out, and asked him to do the same. He struggled at first, but let her guide him through what he realized was a panic attack after a while.

When his breath was more even, he felt extremely tired and dizzy, burning as if he had stood under a hot shower for too long. His thoughts were interconnecting, jumping from one to another while guiltiness screamed inside his mind above all.

“What did you mean with that it was your fault?” Anathema asked in a low voice, after a couple of minutes of complete stillness.

“I… I’ve been neglecting him… For so long,” he stuttered, his voice rough. “The last time we talked he… He wanted to come over to my place because… I suppose he missed me, maybe, and… I refused. I’ve… I’ve broken him.”

Anathema examined him with a cryptic look. “Then maybe you are the cure,” she whispered. “I don’t think anyone can heal him but you.”

“But… How?” He cried, drained, tired, and so, so desperate. “He doesn’t want to… Come back and he’s pushing me out.”

Her lips pursed, forming a thin line, a bitter feeling reflecting on her eyes. She looked at his bandaged hand for a second, before sighing and looking up to his blue eyes again. “I can’t encourage you to get inside his mind more than just one more time,” she whispered. “Be honest with him and maybe he’ll… Find the strength to heal but, if he doesn’t… You can’t help somebody that doesn’t want to be helped, is what I’m saying. And clearly the effort that means immersing in him is draining you, not just your body but your energy and your soul too. If you keep doing it you might die as well. So… Be careful.”

Aziraphale kept looking at her, realizing that he wasn’t afraid of complete exhaustion of his body and his celestial soul. He was afraid of not being able to amend what he’d broken. He was afraid of an eternity without Crowley.

Aziraphale nodded, knowing perfectly he’d get into Crowley’s mind as many times as he needed to convince the demon to return to him or until he perished.

He was getting extremely anxious for waiting, but he didn’t feel strong enough to immerse inside his mind again until three days later.

He was surprised to find himself in Saint James Park. A dark and gloomy version, at least. Once he stood up from his abrupt fall, he looked around to find his friend. He was sitting by the pond, with his wings splayed, deflated against the floor.

“Crowley,” he gasped, swallowing down the dizzy sensation.

“No!” He growled, his voice echoing in a tenebrous way around them, when Aziraphale took a step towards him. “No! Aziraphale, don’t _dare_ to come any closer!”

Something was even more wrong with him than the last time he slipped inside his head, more than what seemed to be happening over his body. Aziraphale felt his body shiver, laying on the bed next to Crowley.

“You never listen. You’ve never listened to me!” Crowley yelled, his wings straightening up as he stood slowly, still not looking at him. “Not even when I’m trying… To fucking save you.”

He turned to him at last, wings completely stretched, strangely tight. Aziraphale saw, horrified, how the beautiful yellow of his eyes had disappeared completely. Now his gaze was completely black and the mark that was covering his body was now showing on the vision of himself inside his mind, marring his chest, reaching up his neck in the search of his face.

“I’m sorry, Crowley,” he cried, not moving, but rushing to talk before he was dragged out again. “I’m sorry for pushing you away when you offered to come over. Hurting you was never my intention, but, please… Don’t push me away now. Let me help you. I think I can do…”

“No!” He grunted, his wings trembling a little, his menacing posture deflating just for a second. “Stop! I beg you.”

Aziraphale kept looking at him, ignoring his words, and Crowley clenched his teeth, huffing and something darker grew around him, an invisible miasma that made Aziraphale want to throw up.

“I’m sorry,” Aziraphale repeated with a whisper. “But I won’t. I can’t think… Of a world without you in it.”

Something escalated after his words. He thought for a moment that it was a thunder, and he closed his eyes, stupidly expecting a bold falling on him, which never happened. He opened them again, finding Crowley on his knees, face buried in his hands, wings closing around him as they trembled.

“Crowley,” he cried, confused and deeply scared, and took a step.

“No! NO!” Crowley yelled, enclosing himself inside the cocoon of his wings more. “ _Angel_ ,” he muttered miserably and Aziraphale realized he was crying. “I’m not… Myself anymore. Or maybe I’ve been this since the start. But, please… Don’t come closer. Don’t come here. Let me die, I’m begging. I don’t want to… Hurt you.”

“What are you saying?” He stuttered, wanting to reach his friend desperately. “You would never hurt me.”

Crowley swayed a little, his wings trembling more, loosening their embrace over his form, slowly falling limp on the floor again. “I should’ve used the holy water… On myself…”

Aziraphale felt his whole world breaking at those words, reviving a fear he thought he had buried forever.

“I should have!” He growled with the darkness of the wholeness of Hell.

The angel was horrified, but found the strength to move towards the figure. Crowley reacted right away when he heard him coming closer, his expression twisting in terror and flinching away.

“No,” he gasped, hugging himself tight. “No. No. No. Go back.”

Aziraphale kneeled down, far but close. “Crowley… There’s something I should’ve told you long ago. But I don’t want to do it here. I beg you… Fight this. I’ll help as much as I can. Stay with me.”

Crowley’s chest was heaving and Aziraphale noticed the moment something changed again. The thunder-like sound echoed again and Crowley emitted a rough growl, closing his eyes tight and shedding a couple of tears.

“Oh, God… Please,” he whimpered, sounding defeated. “ _Don’t let me_ …”

“I need you,” Aziraphale breathed out brokenly. “I need you back.”

“Shut it!” He yelled, more tears falling, and he fixed his black eyes on him, rage filling his whole body.

He couldn’t react fast enough to escape what happened after that. Crowley threw himself over the angel and collided against the floor, hitting his head and back, a throbbing pain reverberating all over his spine. He whined, sensing a tight grip on his wrists, pinning him against the floor.

When he opened his eyes, he saw Crowley over him, huffing like an animal, staring at him as if he was a second away of smiting him, black wings blocking the faint light illuminating the surroundings. He didn’t want to accept it but, for an instant, he forgot that the figure over him was his friend. He didn’t look like his Crowley at all. And he certainly did scare him.

The fear should’ve shown on his face, make the demon react somehow, get him out of that momentary feral trance. He let him go, his expression filling with shame and sorrow and backed away from the angel as fast as he could.

“ _This_ ,” he cried out desperately as Aziraphale sat up, massaging his bruised wrists. “This is what I meant! I… _Fuck_ … Fuck…”

Aziraphale kept very quiet for a moment, realizing Crowley could be touched there if he allowed it. He couldn’t hold back the tears for feeling the touch of his friend, even if it had happened in such a violent way. The sight made Crowley flinch and drop his head in shame. Aziraphale noticed the heavy tears falling from his eyes.

“I was about… To smite you, Aziraphale,” he sobbed. “For a second… I couldn’t control it. I don’t want to… Hurt you. Please. _Stay away_.”

He clenched his teeth, staring at his beloved friend, completely broken. He realized then his mind was jumping between places where they had been together or where maybe he’d hurt him without even noticing. And that pain was dividing him. Accumulated frustration and anger had taken over his mind.

“Do it,” Aziraphale said. Crowley rose his eyes slowly. “Smite me. I deserve it.”

“W-What are you saying?” He grunted, sinking in his own despise.

“All this is my fault,” he sniffled. “I’ve broken you. I’ve never meant to hurt you but I did and now… You’re falling apart.”

“It’s not your fault!” Crowley protested and another loud noise filled the place. “It’s what I am. A demon. This is how it has to be. This is the truth. And,” he stood up, looking down, “I can’t… I don’t want to exist more. Not after... Feeling this.”

Aziraphale knew he was about to be pushed out. He knew he had a second to desperately confess his own truth before it happened, before he spent a while recovering enough to return to his mind to face the consequences.

“Please, Crowley… I lov…”

He felt himself colliding against the wall of glass. His whole body was shaking and his hand seemed about to combust with pain. He started to cry openly, sinking his face on the bed under him.

“ _I love you_ ,” he muttered brokenly.

He didn’t know how much it took him to wake up, but he was unable to move for two weeks after that. His body felt like shattered porcelain, writhing whenever he tried to move, hurting when his broken pieces rubbed. His hand felt completely numb for two days; after that, it hurt so much the pain was almost unbearable. So he stayed laying there, turned to Crowley, staring at the dark mark, now reaching half of his neck, afraid to look away.

He didn’t allow himself to cry more. He was waiting for his energy to recover and when it started to return to his body, he used it to clean his friend from months of stillness, snapping his fingers. The dust disappeared, his hair was clean again and the beard that had grown vanished. He changed his clothes for one of his pyjamas of dark silk. With all those miracles, he damned himself to a few more days laying there, but his mind was too clouded to care.

Aziraphale kept there. No tears. No sleeping. Nothing. He just allowed himself to stare at his friend, grab his hand or caress his long locks of hair if he could. He couldn’t even talk to him.

When he managed to sit, to drag himself to the main room, and checked Crowley’s phone, he realized it was almost October. He almost crumbled at the sight and dragged himself back to his friend immediately, returning to his mind.

He collided against the floor and, this time, he couldn’t even feel it. He just stood up, desperately searching for Crowley. Aziraphale emitted a whimper when he realized where he was: the bandstand.

Crowley was crouched down on a corner, grabbing the railing and giving his back to him. He looked very little but, above all, he seemed completely terrified, even if Aziraphale couldn’t see his expression.

“I love you,” Aziraphale said, and he hated how flat his voice sounded. “I love you, Crowley.”

He saw the figure of his friend trembling, but he didn’t answer. Aziraphale wasn’t sure he was hearing his voice.

“I love you,” he whispered brokenly, just in case he didn’t hear.

Aziraphale himself was feeling as if he was dying. He felt how his whole being was burning with exhaustion. He was struggling with keeping himself inside Crowley’s mind. However, he had to. Maybe this was his last chance.

“Crowley…” He whimpered, taking a step towards him but falling on his knees, his legs giving out.

He didn’t know what he’d expected but… Not the way Crowley turned to him slowly, threat written all over his body. Aziraphale saw his black eyes just for a second before, in the fraction of an instant, his body transformed into a big serpent, a form he hadn’t seen since Eden, and jumped towards him.

Aziraphale felt the hit of their bodies, felt how he collided against the floor. He heard himself screaming in raw pain when Crowley’s fags perforated the skin of his shoulder. He felt the tears streaming down his face as he wrapped his arms around Crowley’s serpentine body as he bit deeper and curled around him, constricting.

“I love you,” he cried and screamed. “I know you’re here still… Come back to me.”

Crowley backed away and Aziraphale screamed again, the pain of fangs retracting equally painful, and stared with his blurred vision at his friend, form changing to human again. He heard a sob from Crowley before finding himself opening his eyes again on the quietness of his bedroom.

Soreness and exhaustion all over again. The feeling his existence was slipping from his body as fast as Crowley was doing by his side takin over. After opening his eyes, he couldn’t even conjure a thought. When he did, three more days passed before being able to move. Then, he rose his fingers to his left shoulder, finding dried blood there and two ugly wounds.

He looked at Crowley finally. The mark had reached half of his face, his arms and his whole trunk. Probably his legs too. He barely could feel him anymore. Aziraphale moved closer, curling by his side and laying his head on his chest over the clothes, careful not to touch any skin. Quietly, he cried, nuzzling into his covered chest.

He thought of giving up for a moment. He thought of laying there and wait until the Big One arrived, erasing everything. However, he could hear still the soft beating of Crowley’s heart and he knew he had to keep trying. It wasn’t over yet.

Aziraphale breathed in, moving his injured hand to rest on Crowley’s chest, and dragged it until finding the skin of his neck.

The harsh light of fire and the choking smell of ashes overwhelmed him when he expected darkness and white noise. He hadn’t expected his bookshop, either. He coughed, trying to see through the smoke and the flames from the place where he laid at. In the middle of the place, Crowley was laying too, his back to him, wings shrugged, figure completely deflated.

“Crowley…” He tried to scream, but his voice wasn’t strong enough.

He crawled to him, made an effort to kneel by his side and tried to grab him, but his fingers went through him. He sobbed.

“You can let me touch you. Please, let me,” he begged.

Crowley didn’t move or open his eyes, but he furrowed sadly and suddenly Aziraphale was able to place his hands on him. He wrapped him in his arms, placing his body over his lap, hugging him close. Aziraphale cried openly, torn and desperate, trembling, hiding his face against the demon’s neck. This was not the same. Everything felt dull, senseless. Just an empty weight. He’d waited six millennia to show him affection and, finally, when he did, it was too late. The life in his arms was fading and he’d failed to bring him back.

“Don’t go,” he begged, cupping his head, interlacing his fingers with his hair _. It was not the same. It wasn’t_. “Don’t leave me. _Please_ , don’t leave me. I’m _so sorry_.”

“I… Hurt you,” Crowley muttered, his voice barely a whisper in the bookshop, burning and crumbling around them.

Crowley hadn’t talked much about what he saw that day. He confessed he’d thought Aziraphale had died, that it was Hellfire. Nevertheless, he hadn’t been able to picture how everything might have looked. He’d been in Hell. Both of them. And this seemed even worse. They were both in their own Hell now.

“No,” he sobbed, squeezing him, frustrated because it did nothing. He couldn’t comfort him physically. “No, you didn’t. _Please_. I’m alright. Everything will be alright… Just come back,” his voice cracked with his plea.

“‘Ziraphale…” Crowley sighed, resting limply in his arms. “Let me… See you.”

Aziraphale readjusted him fast, backing him on his embrace so they both could see their faces. His eyes were back, but their colour was dull, and there was barely any trace of life on his features. The angel sobbed, feeling impotent, but didn’t take his eyes away from him.

“I love you too,” Crowley muttered, blinking once and then closing his eyes for a moment, furrowing, tears rolling down his cheeks. “I didn’t want to… Hurt you. I swear…”

Aziraphale whimpered, caressing the side of his face tenderly and drying the tears, even if neither of them could actually feel it, sensing his own heart drop and shatter against the floor. This couldn’t be the end. This couldn’t be the way they finally were being sincere to each other. This couldn’t be all of their love.

“Stay with me, my love,” Aziraphale begged, bending to press his forehead against Crowley’s. “I want you to stay… I can’t go on without you. You’re everything to me, Crowley. _Listen to me_. Please, _believe me_. Stay…”

“‘S for the better,” Crowley whispered, opening his eyes.

“No! No, it’s not! You… You stupid demon,” he cried out, pressing his forehead harder against his, his body shaking as if he was breaking in pieces right then. “I _need_ you, do you hear me? I _love_ you. I’ve loved you for so long… Don’t let this be the end. I want… I want to make it up for you, every time I wronged you. We can…”

He sensed Crowley huffing; it almost sounded like a laugh. “This is more than… enough for me, angel,” he whispered. “I’m… Happy now. Since the start… Eden… I’ve loved you… This is everything.”

Those words went through Aziraphale’s chest as if he’d been impaled with a burning iron bar and he wept. “Then I’ll stay here with you,” the angel said, trying to make it sound like a threat, but ending up being the absolute truth. “I won’t go back if you don’t.”

“ _Angel_ ,” he grunted softly, with a reprimanding tone. “C’mon…”

“If you don’t, _I don’t_ ,” he backed away to look at Crowley, now looking at him with desperate eyes. “Wherever you go, I’ll follow.”

Crowley furrowed, seeming about to protest, but Aziraphale crossed the distance again, pressing his lips against his, kissing him softly. When he moved to stare at Crowley, he saw the tears gathering in his eyes again, making his yellowish sparkle with the reflection of the flames.

“You’ll be fine. I know… You will,” he whispered, examining the features of the angel with his eyes. “Thank you… For this.”

“ _Crowley_ ,” he begged, tears returning.

“Goodnight, angel.”

This time, he was practically catapulted out of his mind. He collided against the glassy wall, heard it crack, which probably woke him from another large slumber. He huffed in pain, opening his eyes enough to see Crowley. However, it wasn’t the sight of him what alarmed him. It was his presence, vanishing as fast as you turn off a light.

“No…” Aziraphale gasped, crawling to him, placing a hand on his chest. Nothing happened. “No! Crowley!” He shouted, brokenly, desperately moving him, pressing both of his palms against him, straddling him, his body resisting to any movement with sharp pain. “Please! You can’t die! You…”

He bent over, pressing his forehead against his chest, crying and weeping uncontrollably, sensing the emptiness, the loneliness of just his own presence filling the room.

He had nothing to lose.

Aziraphale sat straight again, breathing in and keeping his hands on the demon. He closed his eyes, summoning all the grace in his power, all the energy of his celestial form. He focused it on the demon, swallowing down the pain of making such effort, ignoring it completely. If he died there, extinguished by the desperation of holding onto the last trace of hope he had, so be it.

His body felt as if it was actually breaking and his friend was still not responding. He held back the scream of hopelessness building in his chest, projected it onto using the last drop of power he had, until he couldn’t hold back his voice anymore, the pain too unbearable to keep it hidden. However, he never took his hands off the demon.

Not even when Crowley suddenly breathed in abruptly.

Aziraphale stopped immediately, cutting his power. He bent over just as fast, cupping the face of the demon and looking under his shirt. The mark was gone. His heart was beating normally again and his face was starting to gain colour again.

A rush of joy and relief that he’d never felt took over him, making Aziraphale utter a burst of watery laughter, the nature of his tears changing. He let himself fall over the demon’s body, sense the way the heat was returning to him, and stayed like that, hugging him for a while.

When he backed away to see him better, to check everything was alright, sudden dizziness hit him, as if all of his blood was drained from his body all of a sudden, and everything turned black.

When he felt himself waking up, a sharp terror swallowed him whole and he obliged himself to move, even if his limbs protested and felt his whole body heavy with tiredness. He opened his eyes, rolled over in a rush, and searched for Crowley by his side. At the sight of him, immersed in a deep sleep, with his skin tone restored and his breathing normal, and the mark gone, he sighed in relief and his eyes got a bit blurry.

He had cured his body.

However, Crowley was still asleep and probably a few weeks had passed since Aziraphale had used his power to heal him. Maybe he needed time. Aziraphale felt hopeful, more than before; it was something.

He needed a couple of days before being strong enough to move out of the bed. He spent them contemplating Crowley, thinking about everything that had happened now his mind was cleared and devoid of constant worry and anxiety. He dragged himself to the main room to reach for Crowley’s mobile. It was December already.

Aziraphale sighed. The best thing was getting everything in order before Crowley woke up. He expected that, when he did, they would have to face the reality of what had happened. Aziraphale had a lot to ask about and make up for. He had a bunch of guilts to ask forgiveness for, as well.

However, he was completely exhausted and it took days for him to start to rearrange things. He started with little miracles. He revived the plants and dusted the place. A couple of days after that, he returned the books to his now abandoned bookshop. He took a shower the human way, needing it urgently, when the tiredness didn’t allow him to keep using his power.

He was very aware of how close to destruction he’d been and he actually didn’t care. Aziraphale had pushed himself to limits he’d never approached, but saving Crowley had given him the strength to almost jump off the edge of his capacities. Actually, that situation wouldn’t have been so drastic if he had dared to use his power over Crowley before. Nothing had happened to the demon. Aziraphale hadn’t smitten him. He’d made both of them suffer for being a coward. Again.

While taking a few days to put everything in order, he didn’t allow himself to wonder much about everything. He hadn’t the energy to do so yet. However, his thoughts couldn’t avoid wandering towards dangerous zones when he laid next to his sleeping friend, now inside his bed, under the sheets. He thought about Crowley’s broken heart, about how he’d cried and tried to protect Aziraphale giving up on his life. He thought about furtive looks, and kind gestures, and his absolute reluctance to leave Aziraphale’s side even when his whole being was harmed with years of rejection. He thought about how Crowley had been happy with just a senseless peck and a rushed confession. He’d been ready to die and having received so little…

He couldn’t avoid thinking he wouldn’t get the chance to make things right with Crowley, after everything. He’d hurt him too much. He’d hurt him to the point of breaking him. And it was true that Crowley had forgiven him every time but… This had been too much. Aziraphale doubted he could forgive himself.

Although, the fact that Crowley could blame himself worried him just as much. Crowley had indeed hurt him. He wasn’t exactly sure how it had happened, but it had. Their bodies and minds had somehow mingled when Aziraphale had immersed in his head. There, in the realm of his thoughts, if Crowley had wanted to touch him, to actually hurt him, he’d been able, but only when he seemed enraged, when his energy was enough to cause harm and actual sensations over Aziraphale. He was worried about how Crowley could see himself now, after physically hurting him twice.

The worst was that his hand had completely healed after Crowley’s mark had disappeared, as if it was part of it as well. However, the wound of Crowley’s teeth on his shoulder wasn’t disappearing. It was healing indeed, but Aziraphale couldn’t miracle it away or make it heal with his own power. Well, at least it was something that wasn’t visible. He could hide it from him. It’d be hard enough to deal with Crowley blaming himself to also deal with a permanent mark.

Aziraphale would never blame him for that. He hadn’t blamed him, never. If there was somebody to point as guilty, it was himself. He was very aware that Crowley had no control over what was happening to him. He’d never wanted to actually hurt him but the amounts of fury and frustration caused by Aziraphale pushing him away for millennia had come back to bite him. Literally. He didn’t know how he’d make Crowley understand that, that none of it had been his fault.

After a couple of weeks, he managed to eat again. He was still feeling tired and shallow but better nonetheless. He got enough energy to miracle Crowley clean, as if he just had showered, hoping to make him feel better in his sleep, hoping he would wake up sooner. For a while, he’d worried that, even if the wounds were healed, Crowley wouldn’t wake up. Thankfully, he started to make sounds and move a little soon after, curling and wrestling with the sheets, which almost made Aziraphale burst into tears.

He also managed to sleep on purpose. He was taking longer to heal than he expected and didn’t want to be a wreck when Crowley woke up. There were enough things he’d blame himself about to add another one. So, every night and during some points of the day, he laid beside Crowley. He watched him, beautiful and looking peaceful, and he couldn’t help smiling, his heart blooming with love and pure relief. He caressed his hand and his hair, and drifted slowly to sleep.

Druing the moment between slumber and waking up, Crowley grunted softly.

He sighed, nuzzling into the pillow under his head, realizing he was laying over his belly. He was aware that he was inside his bed, dressing one of his silky pyjamas, and that the air around was warm. Even so, he was uncomfortable. He felt stiff, as if he’d been sleeping in a bad posture or on a hard surface. It hadn’t been a good nap, definitely.

Crowley kept his eyes closed, thinking about what to do once he managed to shake off that displeasing feeling and slip off the bed, although concert and clear thoughts seemed to resist him for a while. His mind was blurry, more than usual. He wondered if the lockdown was over —when he vaguely remembered that was actually happening outside—, if he should call the angel and ask to come over again.

That was the sparkle that ignited him.

_Aziraphale_.

Opening his eyes widely, he felt a rush of memories coming to him. He remembered the call. He remembered Aziraphale turning him down and feeling like shit afterwards. He also remembered the horrible pain crossing his chest, his body surrendering to it, and fainting before being able to miracle himself next to his friend.

He sat up, huffing a little due to the stiffness, confusion striking him. Then, he caught a glimpse of a form laying next to him, which made him jump in surprise and almost turn himself into a snake before a possible threat. He stopped himself just in time, realizing it was just Aziraphale sleeping there.

Aziraphale was sleeping. Next to him. In his bed.

Crowley thought for a moment he was actually dreaming. None of these three things seemed possible in reality. Nonetheless, needing to check it, he reached out, gently pressing his fingertips over the angel’s forearm and pulling back when he realized he was real. Crowley was awake and, for whatever reason, Aziraphale was sleeping there, wearing a tartan pyjama he’d never seen, with a calm but tired expression.

The first thing that occurred to him was that he’d overslept and Aziraphale had been worried, coming there to check on him. He felt a little guilty. Considering everything they had lived, he’d have worried too if Aziraphale had disappeared more time than expected. However, he didn’t understand why the angel had stayed there. He _didn’t understand_ why he was sleeping. Crowley had seen him actually sleeping once in six thousand years, the night after the failed Apocalypse, because both of them were completely worn out. And not even then he’d seemed to sleep so deeply.

However, then he remembered what happened to him after the call. He looked at his chest, touched it, and nothing seemed out of place. Maybe had been nothing. Nothing important, at least.

Sighing, he kept looking at him, knowing that sight probably wouldn’t happen again. Even if confused, and having had a shitty nap, he couldn’t deny he’d never woken up to a better sight than that one. Aziraphale looked truly angelic and Crowley felt his skin warm up and heart soar. He also felt something growing inside his stomach and decided to slip off the bed before it consumed him. He had no idea why the angel was there but refused to do something definitely not proper.

When he stood up, he felt his body protesting slightly and swallowed a growl, not wanting to wake up Aziraphale. It seemed very soon in the morning, the light outside still greyish. He glanced at Aziraphale before exiting the bedroom, smiling sadly because he knew he was saying goodbye to that sight forever, and dragged himself to the main room to look at his mobile, needing to know how much he’d overslept.

He stared down at his screen after miracling the battery full, wide-eyed, not being able to believe it was already December. No wonder the angel had worried. Huffing, he put the mobile down and walked towards his plants, expecting them dried and dead long ago. He was surprised to find them alive and perfectly fine. Well, it seemed Aziraphale had been taking care of some things while he’d been sleeping. Crowley breathed out, stretching himself and feeling like shit again. Aziraphale could have woken him. Why hadn’t he?

Deciding to ask him when he woke up, and feeling the urgent need of a shower, he immersed himself in his bathroom and looked at himself in the mirror and furrowed. His hair had grown past his shoulders but he had a beard of a week, tops. He let out a little laugh, realizing the angel had been taking care of that too. He also felt cleaner than a nap of that many months would’ve left him. Crowley was just as amused as embarrassed.

He turned the water on and shaved while it heated. Once under the jet, feeling the vapour accumulating all around him and the warm water running down his body, he breathed out, the stiffness going away. He lost track of time, standing there, letting his body and mind relax.

“Crowley!” He heard the angel screaming his name suddenly in the distance.

Tensing up, noticing the urgency and terror in the angel’s voice, he got out of the shower without even turning it off. He heard the angel calling for him again, more desperate now, and just managed to wrap a towel around his waist, storming out of the bathroom.

“Aziraphale!” He called him too, walking rushed down the hall, towards the main room.

Aziraphale appeared one millisecond later at the end of the hall, looking breathless and dishevelled, obscured by the lack of light there. He stopped on his tracks suddenly, his eyes wide and his expression tensing. Crowley approached him, huge worry settling inside his body.

“What is it? What’s wrong?” Crowley muttered, examining every line of his face, just seeing shock and stillness, which concerned him more. “Angel. Talk to me. What’s…?”

His voice died suddenly when Aziraphale breathed out and Crowley realized he was about to crumble.

“ _Aziraphale_ ,” he almost screamed, catching him a second before Aziraphale’s legs gave out, sending both of them to the floor.

Crowley held him close, noticing he was shaking furiously, his expression slowly changing into raw emotion, heavy tears rolling down his rosy cheeks and lips trembling. The angel was barely breathing, gaping and gasping as if he’d run a marathon, and Crowley was panicking, not knowing what was happening, growing more anxious every second.

“Crowley,” Aziraphale sighed, raising his trembling hands tentatively to his face, seeming to doubt before his palms cupped his face with supreme delicateness. “Oh, _Crowley_.”

Aziraphale broke down then, bursting into tears and hugging Crowley desperately, pressing him as close as possible, hiding his face against the demon’s neck. Crowley hugged him back, shivering and starting to tremble too, not understanding.

“ _Thank goodness_ ,” Aziraphale cried loudly, stuttering, his arms tightening more around him, his hands clinging onto his back as if he was a lifeline. “You’re awake. _You’re awake_.”

“‘Course I am,” Crowley muttered. “Why shouldn’t I be?”

The angel backed away suddenly, cries dying down. He stared at him, puzzled, sniffling, seeming to examine him and get lost in his scrutiny. Crowley saw something light up inside his gaze, the light of putting two pieces together.

“You don’t remember,” he gasped.

Crowley clenched his teeth. “Remember what?”

Aziraphale gaped, analysing his expression, raising his hands to Crowley’s face again, caressing him gently. If he hadn’t been dying with worry, Crowley would’ve been shaking and making very undignified sounds at the angel’s caresses, never having touched him like this before. The angel sniffled, pressed his trembling lips onto a thing line, suppressing his cries but not able to contain the tears, still falling. He caressed his cheekbones with his thumbs, again and again, not saying a word.

“ _Remember what_ , Aziraphale?” Crowley almost grunted, desperation filling him.

The angel backed away, his expression dropping more, and breathed in shudderingly.

“Oh, _dear_.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Oh, oh... The snek is amnesiac. 
> 
> You can find me on [Tumblr](https://nuryrune.tumblr.com/)!


	4. When you need a place to run to, for better, for worse, I got you

Aziraphale insisted on moving the conversation to another place, after letting him dry and put something on. Crowley had been reluctant to let go of the angel, looking like a mess and not even capable of standing up by himself. However, he obeyed, drying himself and putting on some clothes, and found the angel in his kitchen afterwards, who had prepared a breakfast too huge even for the angel to eat alone. He found out very fast that the intention was for both of them to eat; Aziraphale seemed about to force him if he refused. Thankfully, Crowley was actually very hungry, so he complied.

The silence was killing him as they ate, sitting on the little table of the kitchen. But the worst was the way Aziraphale was looking at him, barely taking his eyes away from the demon. There was too much intensity in his gaze, something Crowley was not used to, and he could read every emotion there: sadness, relief, reluctance, fear… And it was scaring him.

Crowley kept his mouth shut until the food had vanished and Aziraphale served him coffee and made an infusion for himself. He couldn’t avoid detecting Aziraphale’s infusion was a relaxing one, and that he’d doubled the normal dose.

“What’s going on?” Crowley muttered when the angel sat on his chair again.

Aziraphale gave him a hesitant glance, sipping his infusion, clearly needing to avoid the truth for a few seconds more. “I don’t know where to start, honestly.”

“From wherever you like,” Crowley stated, breathing in, sensing his chest clench with tension. “Just tell me what the actual hell is happening.”

The angel looked at him again, his gaze getting watery. He swallowed down, as if trying to find his voice and contain the tears at the same time, and averted his eyes once more in the end, his expression dropping with the arrival of memories. “You didn’t… Call or appear by the bookshop when July arrived and… I called for a couple of weeks every day but you didn’t answer. I was worried and I came to see if everything was alright.”

Crowley gulped, remembering the pain in his chest and how he fainted. He touched his chest unconsciously and Aziraphale turned to him, noticing it.

“You remember the pain in your chest, no?” He stated in a low voice.

“How do you know that?” Crowley asked, feeling a strong shiver taking over him.

Aziraphale let out a shuddering sigh. “You told me,” he whispered brokenly and seemed to wait, examining Crowley’s surprise, and went on when the demon kept quiet. “I found you on your bed. There was… A dark mark on your chest and you weren’t… Answering. You were completely unconscious.”

A single tear escaped him and Aziraphale rushed to dry it, sniffling. Crowley contemplated him, trying to process his words.

“I tried to wake you and accidentally touched the mark. It… Dragged me inside your mind, where I could talk to you,” Aziraphale explained and Crowley saw a hint of something very painful in his eyes.

He didn’t continue, although Crowley knew there was more. “What then? It’s been a few months and there’s no mark now. What happened?”

Aziraphale kept totally still for a moment and then swallowed down the rest of his infusion, falling into quietness once more. Even if he was barely moving, Crowley could see his mind going at full speed behind his dull gaze.

“It was a bad reaction. Your soul was very tired and your body gave in, I suppose. Has taken me a few months to get you free of it,” Aziraphale explained flatly.

“‘M sure it’s been a little more complicated than that. You look like a wreck and you’ve practically collapsed when saw me awake,” Crowley argued, furrowing. “Tell me the truth.”

The angel took a shuddering breath and drove his gaze to Crowley’s, tears shining on their edges. He opened his mouth to talk but just a sob came out. Aziraphale covered his eyes with his hands, trembled, as if trying to repress his feelings, failing miserably and breaking with a whimper, immediately followed by a series of open cries.

“I’m so sorry…” He cried, bending over a little. “I’m so, so sorry, Crowley… It was my fault. I-I broke you. It was me. It was _my fault_.”

Crowley moved his chair closer, placing a reassuring hand on Aziraphale’s back, caressing him up and down. “What are you saying?” He muttered. “What do you mean it was your fault?”

“You were angry with me,” he stuttered, sobbing. “You were _right_ to be.”

“I don’t understand. Angry? I’m not angry with you. I wasn’t then.”

“You were. Because I’ve neglected you. I’ve never stopped neglecting you, not even now. And I… _I’m sorry_. I didn’t mean to hurt you so much but I did and you almost… _You almost_ …” He broke down with a cry, bending over more, weeping desperately.

“Almost _what_?” He whispered, feeling about to cry himself before the scene.

“You almost got destroyed because of it,” the angel whimpered. “You were dying and I couldn’t… I could _do nothing_ but watch. I couldn’t fix it. I even asked help to Anathema and Adam and… Nothing. _Nothing worked_ and I…Started to think…”

He shook his head and kept crying. Crowley let all that for further analysis for later and reached for the angel more, gently grabbing his wrists, uncovering him. Aziraphale didn’t open his eyes, tilting his head to a side as if he didn’t want Crowley to see his face. Crowley, breaking inside, swallowed his own pain and gripped his chin, turning his face to him.

“Look at me,” Crowley asked in the softest voice he could. Aziraphale, tentatively, complied. “I’m alright now. Everything is fine.”

“No,” he hiccupped. “It’s _not._ Not at all.”

“Why not?”

“ _You_ … _Crowley_ …” He struggled, sobbing, desperation reaching his eyes. “Everything I’ve done is still here. And I… You have to let me amend it because I can’t let this happen again. If you forgive me, that is. If you forgive me, I need to… I _want_ to make this up to you. Every time I’ve wronged you.”

“I’m not following you,” Crowley mumbled. “I don’t know what are accusing yourself of.”

Aziraphale gave him a desperate look, filled with a restrained emotion he couldn’t discern. The angel tensed, pressing his lips onto a thin line, gazing deep into Crowley’s eyes but not saying a word. Crowley sighed, pulling away and deflating against the back of the chair. Whatever that had happened inside his mind, during those moments he couldn’t remember now, was something Aziraphale didn’t want to revive into the conversation.

“Look…” He started with a tired sigh. “This is not my forte and I’ve no memories, so… You need to be clear or this is going nowhere.”

“Right, uhm…” Aziraphale exhaled, ashamed and averted his eyes, fixing them on the table. “I… I mean… You were… We,” he let out a faint grunt of frustration, furrowing slightly and looked at Crowley again. “Dear, I prefer not to talk about what’s happened because… You weren’t well and there’s a lot that… Wouldn’t have happened otherwise and I just… Need to ask you something and it’s frightfully important that you answer me.”

Crowley made a throaty sound, worried and uncomfortable about the whole mystery Aziraphale was displaying, but nodded slightly, giving him permission to go on.

“Did I often made you feel as if… We weren’t actual friends? Or as if I was rejecting you?” Aziraphale asked, his voice trembling.

“W-What?” Crowley blurted out.

“Answer, please,” he begged, although he seemed to know the answer perfectly. “I need… To hear it.”

“Ugh… I… Ngk… Maybe,” he growled, sensing his body warming up.

Aziraphale’s expression fell a little more. “How often?”

The demon went completely silent for a few seconds. “Just…” He was thinking of how to avoid saying the truth, but he couldn’t lie to him, let alone when the angel was a plea incarnate right then. “Often enough.”

“And… You were upset when I told you not to come over when I called, yes?” Crowley growled in response and Aziraphale nodded, gaze dropping.

“I still don’t understand what is this all about.”

“You were tired of rejection, deep down. Your… _Forgive me_ , I know you will hate the phrasing but… Your heart just… Broke.”

Crowley puffed, letting out a little laugh, but Aziraphale gave him a serious look, the amusement vanishing at the realization that the angel was being literal. Crowley gulped, feeling his throat dry all of a sudden.

“I’m still not sure how that can happen but… You couldn’t wake up. You… _Didn’t_ want to wake up,” Aziraphale’s voice dropped to a desperate whisper. “You wanted me to let you die.”

Crowley went silent again, the words seeming very strange to him. “What?” He muttered. “Are you serious?”

“Do I look like I’m joking?” He furrowed, clearly trying to sound annoyed, but sounding deeply sad instead.

“Aziraphale, I’ve never thought a thing like that,” Crowley said very clearly. “ _I’ve never_. I know you thought so, at some point. But I never wanted the holy water for that. Why would I ever want to kill myself?”

“You literally told me you should have used the,” he swallowed down, his voice breaking, and he made a pause, trying to get it back, “holy water on yourself.”

His serpentine eyes widened, disbelief hitting his mind. “Maybe I was just out of my mind. Don’t take seriously anything I said, really.”

Something seemed to break inside the angel at that, turning roughly towards him, eyes sharpening. “I’ve spent months pleading you to come back. _Months_ , Crowley. Of course that I take it seriously. You weren’t even trying. You were just there, waiting for your doom, not caring at all about whatever I said, about how much I wanted you back. And, _excuse me,_ but I won’t let that happen again.”

Crowley took a shuddering breath, his head a little dizzy at the sudden rough reaction of his friend. “Okay but… Seriously. I will never do such a thing. I can’t think of anything bad enough actually happening to lead me to that.”

Aziraphale dropped his eyes to his lap again, seeming still reluctant, rubbing his right shoulder as if he wanted to rub off the tension gathered in his muscles there. Crowley sighed, feeling the urgent need to end that soon, to make the angel happy and calm again.

“Hey. I’m here now. And I won’t leave,” Crowley said reassuringly. “Don’t listen to whatever I said while unconscious. I don’t know what I said but I wasn’t right. It wasn’t what I really think so… Everything is fine now.”

Even so, the angel still seemed trapped in whatever he’d heard from him while he’d been submitted to that strange curse.

“What are you so scared of?” Crowley asked him, furrowing. “What did I say that has you so worried?”

“ _Everything_. Everything you said worried me.”

“But it wasn’t me.”

“And how do I know you’re not just trying to reassure me? You’d never really tell me if you… Intended to do such a thing.”

“But I don’t want to! _Seriously_. Why would I have bothered to try to save the world if I just wanted to die? C’mon, angel,” he said, starting to get annoyed.

Aziraphale emitted a soft sound, knowing he was right about that. Still, the reluctance remained. Crowley growled, actually bothered now.

“Fine. Spit it out. I can’t stand this anymore. What the fuck happened?” He blurted out. “If I wanted to die so much, there had to be a reason. Tell me what do you think it is and I’ll tell you how stupid it actually is, so you can stop worrying.”

The angel furrowed sadly, rubbing his shoulder again, and looked at his empty cup. “You… Were worried about hurting me.”

“Hurting you?” Crowley repeated as if tasting the words, feeling bitter on his tongue.

That seemed such an impossible thing for him. He’d never hurt Aziraphale. Everything he’d ever done had gone against it. He always took care that his head kept glued to his shoulders. He only actually failed once to keep him safe, that horrible day the world almost ended, when he thought Aziraphale had been killed with Hellfire in his bookshop. That still haunted him. He could remember perfectly the desperation, the crushing despair making him tremble, the disinterest for everything gradually growing as he drove away. But he never thought of killing himself. He would never hurt Aziraphale. Never. He rather be destroyed completely before doing so.

_Wait_.

The hurt returned. He felt the rain again, falling over him. _Crowley!_ Oh, no. Aziraphale. He felt Aziraphale kneeling beside him. How was he there? How had he done it? _I’m not letting you die, you idiot!_ He didn’t understand. Crowley was consumed, he’d been for months, laying there without being able to fight it. Darkness was tearing him apart. He didn’t want the angel there; it was too dangerous. He pushed him out.

Silence. It was worse now, after Aziraphale’s intrusion. Crowley wanted to let go, this suffering to end. The consuming sensation brought a displeasing clarity, a devilish rage filling his mind, fed with the images of the being he loved the most. He was being corrupted and wasn’t sure if those devilish thoughts had been always inside him. Maybe he’d always been this horrible. Crowley felt the intrusion again, Aziraphale returning to wherever he was. No. Please. Go away. _Don’t you want to… Come back?_ He couldn’t. He didn’t want to taint Aziraphale. He didn’t want to risk it. Crowley didn’t trust himself anymore, didn’t know who he was anymore. _Dear… I promise I’ll find a solution. Just help me here._ Crowley hoped to die before the angel tried to come back again. He pushed him out once more.

The darkness grew and grew and he felt he was swimming in it, losing very fast whatever he made him able to keep in control of his own obscurity. Every cape of him was being ripped, and now there just resided the fury that had formed his insides. Crowley was sure now that he’d always been so horrible. Aziraphale came to him again. He was begging now. _I can’t think… Of a world without you in it_. His voice was increasing the pain. The things he said were tearing him inside even more. The angel made him angrier and he was losing his mind. He was sure he was about to lose control. And he did. He did, the beast unleashing, and he found himself pinning his friend down, the instinct of smiting him was a pleasing sensation. He pushed him out when he felt himself enough again to back away. Crowley actually wanted to die. Fast. Right now.

His mouth watered. Fangs. He felt his fangs growing, his hands grabbing a piece of wood. He was huffing like an animal, trying to keep still. _I love you_. He felt the rage growing inside his stomach. _I love you, Crowley_. He sensed the scales marring his skin. Kill. Kill. He wanted to make the source of his anguish disappear. _Crowley_. Kill. He changed his form, threw himself to his prey and bit him. Bit as deep and hard as he could, and tasted the blood on his tongue, constricting his limps with his body, curling around them. He rejoiced in his cries and sobs. _I love you. I know you’re here still… Come back to me_. The prayer reached the last trace of himself left, turning him to his human form. Crowley realized right away what he’d done, seeing the angel under him, badly wounded by his attack, bleeding a lot and with his face twisted in pain and anguish. He pushed him out with tears in his eyes and surrendered, abandoning himself completely to the darkness, letting it consume his energy completely.

It was finally happening. He vaguely felt Aziraphale but he wasn’t sure if his presence was real. _Crowley. You can let me touch you. Please, let me_. He could feel the void. He was grateful to hear Aziraphale before everything was over. _Don’t leave me. Please, don’t leave me. I’m so sorry_. Was he there, for real? _Please. I’m alright. Everything will be alright… Just come back_. Stupid, stubborn angel. _Stay with me, my love_. Oh, what a torture. He saw the tears, the beautiful face of his angel. Yes. He was there. Very, very stupid. Very, very stubborn. And how he loved him. How full of regret he would leave this world for hurting him. _I won’t go back if you don’t_. Aziraphale moved to kiss him. He couldn’t feel it, but he was grateful for the gesture, even if he was far from deserving it. He pushed him out and prepared to die.

Crowley vaguely heard Aziraphale screaming his name. Through the dizziness, he realized he was on the floor of the kitchen, held by two warm hands trying to make him sit up. He breathed in shudderingly when Aziraphale managed to straighten him. He didn’t focus on him, gaze lost as he returned to reality slowly. It took at least a minute to return completely, his mind processing he’d remembered everything of those months in the span of a second. When his thoughts stabilized, he had a second of his mind going completely blank, just to spiral down very fast into horror a second after. When his eyes focused and he rose them to look at the angel panicking before him, shaking him slightly, he moved fast. He grabbed the edge of his shirt, pulled it to side roughly and tearing a button. Crowley saw the mark of his attack there, marring his skin, and let go of the angel as fast as he’d grabbed him, standing up and pressing himself far from him, against the nearest wall.

Aziraphale, still on the floor, seemed shocked for a second and didn’t move when he realized what had happened. “Crowley,” he whispered very, very softly, as if he was in the position of reassuring right now.

“I-I… I didn’t…” Crowley gasped. “How… could I …”

Aziraphale stood up, moving cautiously, not approaching Crowley, seeming to evaluate every movement the demon was making, as if he was some hurt and cornered animal.

“It’s alright. You weren’t you. You’ve said it yourself,” Aziraphale muttered.

“ _I attacked you_. Twice. Hard enough to… So _viciously and purposefully_ to leave a mark even on your corporeal form,” he growled, talking very fast. “I could have _actually_ smitten you, Aziraphale. Don’t you understand?”

“But you didn’t. Everything is alright, I…”

“No, Aziraphale!” Crowley yelled, sensing his senses going frantic. “It’s not alright! It’s far from being alright!”

“Dear…” Aziraphale rose his hands slightly, restrained tears starting to appear in his eyes, and he took a step.

Crowley tensed up, his whole body seeming to turn as hard as if made of stone. “ _No_ ,” he gasped, scared of himself. “Don’t touch me. Don’t…”

He slipped off the kitchen, walking away from the angel until reaching the main room. His breath was getting laboured and he sunk his fingers in his hair, fingers clenching at it, slightly pulling. His eyes were starting to burn and his body trembled as if he was about to break into a million of shattered pieces. The images started to play in his head again at full speed, repeating, bouncing from a memory to another one. He still could feel his hands forcing the angel against the floor, his teeth profaning his skin with what was almost a deadly wound, the taste of his blood…

Crowley bent over, managing to back a hand on his table for support, and had the first attack of reaching in his existence. After a few seconds of anguish, the absolute silence came, just broken by his gasps. He miracled the mess away and his knees gave out instantly, collapsing against the floor. Crowley sat down, resting his back against one of the table’s legs, and his eyes travelled up for a brief second when he noticed the angel standing very near.

He couldn’t look at him and, even if he thought he didn’t want anything but to be dead now, he swallowed his words. Anything he’d ever done before had made him sick like that. Nothing before had made him feel actually and irremediably evil.

“I apologize, Crowley,” the angel breathed out, kneeling down where he was, not coming closer.

“ _Don’t dare_ to say that again,” Crowley said with a faint but husky voice.

“It’s true. I managed to get you back using my power to heal but… I didn’t dare until the last moment because I was scared of smiting you. If I had used it when I found you, you wouldn’t have suffered so much. You wouldn’t be suffering now.”

Crowley couldn’t talk. He didn’t even know what to say. The angel had been months trying to get him back. He _had confessed_. Aziraphale had confessed he loved him with the hope of reviving him. And Crowley didn’t care if it was just a blatant lie, because he couldn’t stop thinking he actually had thought of killing Aziraphale. He had _tried_ to kill him. For a few moments, he had attacked him as if the angel had been nothing to him but a source of his demonic rage.

Even if he hadn’t died and the darkness had gone away, Crowley had done those things still. No matter why or in which circumstances. He had hurt Aziraphale. He could have killed him. And even if he loved the angel with his whole soul and heart, that hadn’t stopped him from almost fulfilling that wicked purpose. And Aziraphale had trusted him, had thought Crowley would never hurt him, which made it even worse.

The angel was right to be worried. If anything in his whole life had made Crowley want to be actually dead, was that.

“I understand if you don’t forgiv…”

“ _Stop_ ,” Crowley breathed out, cutting him off, closing his eyes tightly and furrowing, attacked by a pain that just grew stronger at every second that passed. He rose his hands to his face, pressing his palms against his eyes.

He heard Aziraphale sigh softly and Crowley tensed, trying to contain with all of his forces the tears and sobs that threatened to flow out of his body. He didn’t deserve the relief of sadness.

“My dear…” Aziraphale said after a few seconds of silence, his voice barely a broken whisper. “May I approach you, please?”

Crowley wanted to shake his head to deny it, but he feared that, if he did, the effort he was making to keep completely closed would break and everything would come out of him without being able to stop it.

He heard Aziraphale coming closer, but he didn’t touch him. However, he could feel his scent and his warmth very close to his legs. Crowley trembled harder, his strength cracking.

“You warned me,” he started, talking with a velvety voice he only used to reassure and give peace. “You tried to protect me, just as you’ve always done. But you have to understand I couldn’t. Wouldn’t you have done the same, if I had been the one in such a situation?”

Crowley didn’t utter a word, although the answer was very clear to him. Of course that he would have given all of him to save Aziraphale. The difference was that, after what had happened, Crowley thought he deserved being saved even less than before.

“I know you would have,” Aziraphale whispered brokenly and Crowley pressed the palms harder against his burning eyes. “And I don’t wish that you torture yourself because of my choosing. I was completely aware of the danger I took trying to get you back and I did it nonetheless, because I couldn’t let you go. And it was probably the most selfish thing I’ve ever done but… I just couldn’t.”

Crowley bent over, a single sob escaping him, and curled more into himself, as if he could hide like that.

“I think I don’t deserve you, your friendship or anything else that comes from the kindness in your soul,” Aziraphale muttered and Crowley could hear the tears echoing in his voice. “I neglected you and broke your heart to the point of taking you to this hopeless point. I’ve hurt you even more, surpassing your desires, just because I couldn’t take that you died because of me and without even having had the chance to tell you the truth of my heart. But if you can… Let that pass, I truly want to show you how glad I am to have you back and the extent of my belief that you deserve more than you think you do.”

He couldn’t hold back the tears after that, although his throat tightened so much Crowley was unable to speak or let out a whimper. Nevertheless, Aziraphale indeed whimpered.

“Crowley… I’ve been scared of losing you since you asked for holy water for the first time. And I know now that you actually didn’t want it for that but… When you’ve been so willing to let go for good these months… I’ve been _absolutely terrified_ , like never before. The possibility that you cease to exist is a nightmare I don’t need to be asleep for it to haunt me. And if I still have some of your benevolence, please… Let me know it can’t be real, even after everything.”

Lies weren’t something he could say to Aziraphale. And he wouldn’t now. He couldn’t say he didn’t want to die, to perish until not even ashes of him remained. Crowley felt trapped, because he knew how much the angel was suffering due to that fear, but he couldn’t tell him something untrue.

“ _Please_ … Say something,” Aziraphale whimpered miserably. “Even if it’s something I don’t want to hear… I need you to tell me and I… I promise I’ll get you out of it too. But… _Please_. I need to hear your voice.”

Crowley gulped, trying to get control of his voice again. “I’m so sorry, angel…” He breathed out, barely.

Aziraphale uttered a sound charged with relief. “Oh, my dear, it’s alright. You being here is all I care about.”

“What if… I had woken up… Still broken?” Crowley asked, his voice shaking. “What if I had hurt you too, here?”

“But you haven’t. There’s no point in wondering.”

Crowley inhaled shudderingly, feeling the tears flowing harder down his cheeks. “I don’t think I can forget it,” he mumbled.

“I understand,” Aziraphale said, compassion resounding in his tone. “I can’t imagine how I would feel if I ever hurt you without intending to.”

“But I intended it!” Crowley growled, shaking, and he lost control of his body, starting to sob openly. “I _intended_ to hurt you,” he grunted, angry.

Aziraphale went silent for a moment. “Do you want to hurt me now?”

“‘Course not,” he whimpered.

“Then that’s enough. You’re yourself again and free from what was making you different. I trust you. I know you’ll never hurt me in your right mind. You have to forgive yourself, because what happened was out of your control.”

Crowley writhed, swallowing down the sobs. He felt Aziraphale moving even closer, letting out a watery sigh.

“Will you let me touch you now?” He asked, radiating pure gentleness. “Will you let me hug you?”

He breathed in, uncovering his face but keeping his eyes down, the curtain of his hair still hiding his expression somehow. Crowley gave him a little nod, trusting the angel was right and he was harmless again. However, when he sensed the angel placing a warm hand on his knee, approaching, he panicked, tensing up.

“Do not be afraid,” Aziraphale muttered, reaching for one of his hands and interlacing their fingers, pulling him to a straighter position, closer to him. He rose Crowley’s hand to his face and placed a gentle kiss over his knuckles. “We’re both here. Everything will be alright, if that keeps like that.”

Aziraphale rose his free hand to the demon’s face, pushing a few locks of hair behind his ears and caressed his curls, making Crowley close his eyes and sigh, furrowing sadly. He didn’t understand how the angel could be so tender to him after all. He was not even a bit afraid of him.

The angel moved to sit by his side and placed his gentle fingers on his jaw, pushing his head up with carefulness. However, Crowley kept his eyes down, still unable to look at him.

“Look at me, Crowley,” Aziraphale asked, more pleading than demanding. “Please.”

Crowley complied, tentatively fixing his eyes on Aziraphale’s. The angel gave him a little smile, although his features and gaze were red from crying. However, Crowley melted under the way Aziraphale was staring at him, with a tenderness he’d never seen before on him. This look was different, so open but so focused at the same time.

Aziraphale lowered his hands, placing them on his back, and pushed him towards his body, embracing him tightly against himself. Crowley trembled, unable to contain a few more tears. He had waited all his existence for a moment like that and was happening just when he couldn’t think of anything but how badly he hurt the angel. He noticed Aziraphale drove him to the shoulder that was unwounded and Crowley couldn’t help pressing his face against the angel’s neck, returning the embrace.

The angel also hid his face against Crowley’s neck, the contact making the demon shiver furiously. Aziraphale let out a little whimper, his arms tightening around his lithe form.

“I promise I’ll compensate everything to you,” Aziraphale said softly. “If you let me.”

“ _Aziraphale_ …” Crowley muttered, regret reaching his heart.

“You deserve it,” he cut him off before he could reject it. Aziraphale cupped his head, slightly caressing his curls. “You’ve waited for too long and I rejected you too many times… I want to put your heart together again.”

“You’re such a sap…” Crowley breathed out.

“Well… It’s literally what I need to do, so…” Aziraphale moved backwards, and their gazes meet again. “I suppose we… Should talk about the core of this situation and… Some things we said.”

Crowley felt his face growing hot and gulped. “Yeah. Uhm…” His voice died down. “Maybe we should move somewhere else.”

“Right.”

They looked at each other for a second, none of them making a move to stand. However, in the end, Aziraphale stood up first, giving Crowley a hand and helping him. They moved to a sofa on a corner, which Crowley had materialized the night after the Armageddon’t for them to rest there and have a couple of drinks.

When they were settled there, Aziraphale still holding his hand, softly caressing it with his thumb, Crowley surprised himself by talking first.

“Was it true that you… You know, that you…?” He asked tentatively. “Or did you just say it to give me strength?”

Crowley wouldn’t be surprised if the angel had noticed that he loved him. He hadn’t been precisely subtle about it through the millennia and the angel had been months wandering in his mind. And, although he remembered most of what had happened, not everything was completely clear and maybe he’d said things he couldn’t recall.

Aziraphale seemed very offended for a second, but he swallowed it down, clearing his throat before speaking. “Of course it was true.”

A husky noise escaped Crowley at those words and he furrowed, his mind spinning once more. “I thought… You didn’t. Always thought so.”

His expression dropped a little and Crowley saw the apology in his eyes. “I’m aware of it but… I do.”

Crowley felt his brain short-circuiting. “What? But… _When_?” He mumbled and the way Aziraphale’s hand slightly tightened its grip made him ascend a little. “How? _Why_?”

“Are you going to use all the interrogative adverbs available, dear?” He smiled softly.

“I just don’t understand,” he almost growled, utterly confused. “I’ve… I just thought you weren’t interested at all in… Well, _me_. In that way.”

Aziraphale tilted his head to a side a little, his cheeks flushing slightly. “I’ve been quite dense about it and that I’ve been giving you… Mixed signals, through all these years, I’ll admit that. However, I’m very interested in… Every aspect of you, actually. I’ve been for long and… I couldn’t act on it, before. Maybe it was just cowardice, more than duty related, and now I regret deeply having wasted this year because… If I had reached to you after we averted Armageddon maybe you… Wouldn’t have gone through this.”

Crowley deflated a little against the sofa, sinking in its plushiness. He was going through his memories of the last centuries, trying to find a pattern, a clue in favour of Aziraphale’s words. Nevertheless, he just got himself more confused.

“I’ll comprehend if you’re tired of waiting for me,” Aziraphale muttered with a tone full of sadness. “I don’t mind if we continue as if nothing happened. All I want is having you near, no matter how.”

“Wait. _Wait, angel_ ,” Crowley mumbled, raising his free hand to his face and rubbing his forehead, trying to process what he was hearing. “What are you saying?” He asked and gave him a questioning look, afraid to make assumptions, even now. “That you’d want…?”

Aziraphale blushed and dropped his eyes to his lap, uttering a little murmur of embarrassment. “Well… Be together, yes; the human way, like a… Couple, that is. If that’s what you mean.”

Crowley pulled his hand away too roughly and Aziraphale rose his eyes to him right away, great sadness reaching his features.

“I-I don’t think I can…” Crowley hesitated, feeling his heart breaking again.

“Oh…” The angel breathed out, averting his eyes again, and Crowley noticed the shine in his eyes of what might turn into tears very fast. “Is alright, really.”

“No. _No,_ _fuck,_ ” he growled, frustrated. “It’s not that I don’t want, Aziraphale,” he got his attention again, his blue eyes raising to meet his gaze. Unable to keep still, he stood up, starting to pace before the sofa. “I… I know you say everything is fine but I… Can’t act as if nothing happened.”

“I don’t expect you to. Clearly you need to process it all.”

He stopped for a second, gazing at him with desperation. Crowley had before him everything — _literally everything_ — he’d ever wanted and now he couldn’t grab it, too ashamed and scared of himself.

Aziraphale stood up too, reaching him and raising his hands to his face, cupping his cheeks gently. Crowley almost sobbed, feeling undeserving of such tenderness, of the loving gaze Aziraphale was giving him.

“If you need time, it’s alright. It’s my turn to wait and I promise you I don’t mind,” he said, projecting all of his love in his voice. “Just know that I want you and I love you with all of my heart, and that you can reach for more whenever you are ready, if you want to.”

Aziraphale rose on his tiptoes and pressed a soft kiss against Crowley’s forehead, making the demon gasp brokenly. When he backed away and lowered again, he beamed at Crowley and his hands travelled to his hair, caressing a couple of long curls. He was trembling again under such attentions. Aziraphale had never done this, had never been so forward —well, forward for him—, and it made his head spin.

“You look dashing with your hair this long,” he admitted. “Well… Not that you’ve ever looked anything but dashing.”

Definitely, he was about to have another heart attack. “ _Ngk_.”

Aziraphale gave him a timid glance and backed away, freeing his hair. “I’m sorry. I just…” he stuttered, then sighed, his expression dropped a little. “Never mind.”

Crowley kept looking at him, just as he’d always done, but now with the possibility of opening his heart, knowing he would be loved back. Nevertheless, his gaze dropped very fast to his right shoulder and he felt his chest hurting at the memory.

“Why didn’t you miracle the mark away?” He asked with a little voice.

Aziraphale looked down too, hesitant. “I can’t.”

Breathing in shudderingly, as if his lungs had ignited, Crowley rose his hand, placing it above his shoulder. Aziraphale, slightly panicking, grabbed his wrist, pulling it back. “No more miracles,” he said, a bit sternly. “You have to rest still.”

“‘M fine. It’s nothing,” Crowley answered. He was sure that, being his mark, he could miracle it away. Moreover, he wasn’t willing to let the angel go around marked like that, with the constant reminder that Crowley had attacked him, consciously or not.

The angel sighed, giving in and letting go of his wrist, although seeming very worried. Crowley touched his shoulder and took a deep breath, miracling the mark away. Although he felt it disappearing, he checked, gently pulling the neck of his shirt to a side and looking at his shoulder. The mark had gone away.

Crowley took his hand away, feeling just a tiny bit better. “Done,” he muttered.

They looked at each other in silence for a moment and Crowley wished he could do something to make the angel feel better, since Aziraphale wouldn’t stop looking concerned.

“I won’t hurt myself,” Crowley said, knowing it was just what Aziraphale was thinking, because he hadn’t answered that before.

“You promise?”

“I promise. You can get back to your bookshop; you’ve been living here for a while, it’s obvious. You don’t have to guard me more,” Crowley assured, trying to sound mocking, although his mood didn’t help. He noticed a few things that weren’t his around the flat.

Aziraphale almost pouted at that and his eyes shone with pure anxiety. “I’m… I mean, if you need to be alone I will, but…” He stuttered.

Crowley sighed, softening. “I’ll go with you, if you want.”

He gave him a little smile. “That’d be better.”

After a month, Aziraphale wasn’t less anxious about Crowley. Although he was managing it better.

After he woke up and their rollercoaster of conversation, Crowley agreed to go with him to the bookshop, although clearly kept his distance. Aziraphale had been very grateful for that, since he doubted that he could have left the demon alone and not be dying with worry. He’d never seen his friend so unstable and, after remembering what had happened inside his mind and reacting so badly, Aziraphale was scared that he could harm himself, even if Crowley had promised he wouldn’t. He had experienced first hand where his guiltiness could take him and he wasn’t willing to let him sink further in it.

Besides, Aziraphale really thought everything that happened was his fault. He needed to compensate a lot of suffering and figure out how to do it meanwhile Crowley was adjusting and processing the events. After living those months when he’d been about to lose him, Aziraphale was desperate to love the demon as much as he could, shower him with affection, but that wasn’t an option, not yet. Maybe it would never be. So, he tried to drove them to the routine they had before the pandemic started.

Crowley stayed in the bookshop for two days. They drank and talked for hours and Aziraphale tried with all of him to do as if everything was normal again. However, the sight of Crowley, splayed on the sofa, there, yes, but with the evidence of the pain he was going through and his beautiful long hair, grown in the span of their despair… Was too much for him sometimes, and he teared up a bit, not knowing if he was really happy or really sorry. Probably both.

After those two days, Crowley insisted he had to return to his flat to water the plants, at least. It wasn’t necessary, really. He could have miracled it and stay in the bookshop. Nevertheless, Aziraphale understood that he needed space, even if he wasn’t asking for it directly. And, even if the image of him walking away and crossing the door of the bookshop made him incredibly anxious, he let him go, with the promise of dinner at the Ritz that night. Once alone, he let all his emotions flow along with his tears, streaming down his face without being able to control them.

It took him a couple of weeks to stop crying whenever Crowley left him alone and actually breathe and stop worrying when he wasn’t around. Not that he wasn’t concerned still, but Crowley seemed to get better as the days passed. He started to smile and tease Aziraphale again, and his gaze was less dull and his expressions more relaxed. Although he was still keeping his distance and never mentioned again what had happened, nor the paused thing between them.

They spent most of their time together again, going out to have dinner or lunch or take a walk, or staying inside the bookshop. Some nights, Crowley fell asleep on the couch, which made the angel feel very anxious and spent most of the time repeating himself he was just sleeping and that he was completely fine. Aside from that, Aziraphale felt blessed. Having Crowley with him was all he needed and he was thankful for every minute.

One night, they were talking of having the promised picnic decades ago and Aziraphale got really excited about it. He found the opportunity to return to Crowley all his altruist acts and do something for him for once. The angel took care of everything and Crowley just had to drive them to Saint James park the next afternoon.

While watching the sun go down, they drank and eat the food Aziraphale had prepared. He even convinced Crowley to taste some of it and was completely delighted when the demon praised his cooking with a smile. Crowley was laying over the blanket as they talked and laughed and Aziraphale was marvelled looking down at him. The intense light of the approaching sunset made his hair shine, as if a bunch of flames had been splayed over the blanket, and every time he laughed, his voice throaty due to his position, Aziraphale felt his heart soaring. How he loved him _, oh Lord_. If he only could make Crowley so happy that he forgot what pain was…

When the sunset properly started, they fell silent, just admiring the view. Crowley even sat up, closer than he’d ever been during those months. Aziraphale heard him huffing a little at some point and turned to him, noticing right away he was trembling. He softly touched his arm and felt the coldness settled in his muscles.

“Oh dear, you are freezing,” he muttered, worried. “Why haven’t you said anything?”

“‘M fine,” he said, although his teeth slightly chattering betrayed him.

Aziraphale miracled another blanket and put it around them both. Crowley looked at him and he saw his eyes widening behind the glasses. He blushed, embarrassed, and cleared his throat.

“I-I… I’m sorry, just let me…” Aziraphale started to move away, sliding the blanket off his shoulders.

“N-No,” Crowley said right away and the angel stopped. “‘S fine.”

Nodding, he placed the blanket around him again, and pressed his arm against Crowley’s gently, sensing the coldness of it and how tense the demon was now. Aziraphale flinched when a hand found his under the cocoon of the blanket, their fingers interlacing. He looked at Crowley, utterly bewildered, but the demon kept staring at the sunset. However, the red tone of his cheeks was unmistakable and the nervousness on his features clear. Aziraphale felt his heart growing three sizes with pure love at the sight. Returning his gaze to the sun, he squeezed Crowley’s hand tighter and felt brave enough to tilt his head and rest it against his shoulder.

Aziraphale closed his eyes, enjoying the closeness, the warmth, thinking of those times he thought he’d never feel Crowley alive and near to him ever again. The peace of that moment was making those displeasing moments blur, replaced by a spark of hope. Crowley was slowly reaching, or it seemed so, at least. And, if this was just a friendly gesture, the angel was happy all the same.

“Angel?” Crowley spoke at last, when the sun had disappeared from their sight.

Aziraphale didn’t move, didn’t open his eyes. “Yes?”

“Can you forgive me again?”

Before such question, Aziraphale indeed moved, straightening up and gazing at Crowley, suddenly worried. “What?”

“I’ve never needed forgiving. But I need yours now,” he said with a little voice, and his glasses blocked all the feelings running through his gaze at the very moment. “Can’t move on without it.”

“What are you talking about? There’s nothing to forgive,” Aziraphale muttered.

“But I…” Crowley growled, furrowing. “I need to have it.”

Crowley never asked something for himself and Aziraphale wanted to give him peace of mind, even if he truly believed there was nothing to amend or forgive for Crowley’s part. Aziraphale reached for his glasses, taking them off with gentleness, resting them behind him on the mattress. Turning to Crowley, Aziraphale fixed his gaze on his desperate one. Crowley’s chest was heaving and the tension harboured in his body was visible even with the darkness, slowly falling over them.

“I forgive you,” Aziraphale muttered, giving him a sweet but sad smile.

He sighed, deflating completely, as if a very heavy weight had been lifted from over him. Aziraphale almost panicked when Crowley bent over, seeming about to fall forward. However, he realized Crowley just wanted to hug him and sink his face on his shoulder. He didn’t say ‘thank you’, but the way his arms tightened around him and how Crowley’s hands held onto him, was enough to Aziraphale to know this was his way to say it.

Aziraphale hugged him back, caressing his hair reassuringly, and lost himself in the spicy scent of the demon. “How do you feel now?” He asked softly. “About everything, that is.”

“Better,” Crowley admitted, his voice a little muffled against his shoulder. “But… Still haunts me.”

“I’m aware of it. Take your time,” Aziraphale whispered tenderly. “And know that you have me here, for whatever you need.

They kept hugging, without saying a word, for a few minutes. Aziraphale felt his heart hammering against his chest all the time, not able to control his excitement for having Crowley in his arms, warming him up and keeping him close. At some point, when the night had filled the sky at last, Crowley backed away a little, without breaking the hug completely. He fixed his pair of bright eyes on him and Aziraphale noticed there was something still torturing him.

“Can I ask you something?” Crowley said very softly.

“Of course, darling.”

Crowley made a little strangled sound at that and Aziraphale smiled, pleased. He cleared his throat before talking again and put a serious expression again. “Did you really mean what you said, when we were in my head, at the burning bookshop… That you would have stayed even if…?” He gulped, clearly unsettled by the memory.

Aziraphale sighed with sorrow, also displeased by the image of Crowley in his arms, ready to give up. “I did. I would have.”

His feature twisted at his answer. “You have to promise me you’d never think of anything like that ever again,” he asked with a very serious tone, almost demanding. “If something ever happens and we part, you _can’t_ give up your life like that.”

“But you did,” Aziraphale protested, furrowing sadly, and a pang of fear hit him suddenly. “Crowley, are you suggesting…? You promised you wouldn’t hurt yours…” He held onto Crowley’s arms, shaken.

“No. I didn’t mean that. Relax, angel,” Crowley cut him off fast before his panic, reassuring. “I promised and I'm a demon of my word. But I need to be sure you’re not going to do something stupid if one day Hell decides they’re not done with me. It can happen.”

That didn’t calm Aziraphale completely but was better than Crowley still having dark thoughts about his own life. The angel deflated, looking at Crowley, wondering if he really could promise that.

“ _Aziraphale_ ,” Crowley demanded, furrowing.

“I can’t,” the angel almost screeched. “You can’t make me promise I wouldn’t try to help you if something happened to you.”

“I lost you too once, if you don’t remember,” Crowley growled, irritated. “And I won’t let you die on my account.”

“Who says I would perish?” Aziraphale protested back.

“ _You_ ,” Crowley yelled, tensing up. “You would let yourself die for nothing.”

“Nothing?” He pulled the blanket away, getting himself out of the cocoon that a few seconds had been the happiest place in the world and now felt oppressing. “You are not _nothing_.”

“I was about to die anyway. What you wanted to do had no fucking sense. It was foolish and stupid and I won’t let that happen again,” the demon looked at him with exasperation, the white of his eyes swallowed by the expanded yellow of his irises.

Aziraphale gulped, feeling his throat tightening and the burning of incipient tears burning his eyes. He tried to breath in, calm down, but his emotions were overflowing out of his control very fast. For a second, he thought he would scream at Crowley, exasperated, but another emotion predominated.

“I don’t want to live without you,” he breathed out, the sadness inside spilling through his words. “ _I can’t_.”

He seemed to crumble a little before Aziraphale’s words, his tense pose crushing, shoulders falling and expression softening. He examined the angel’s face while he struggled to keep the tears from falling.

Crowley sighed, sounding tired. “You’ve read too many cheesy novels. ‘Course you can.”

“What?” Aziraphale muttered, feeling as if the demon had punched him on his chest. “ _How can you be so cynic?_ I’m saying I can’t live without you and you say _this_.”

“Look,” he closed his eyes tightly, sounding more sad than irritated. “I’m just saying I don’t want you to risk yourself for me. I’ve promised you too, why can’t you do the same?”

“It’s not the same you promised!” Aziraphale growled. “I’ve never made you promise you wouldn’t risk yourself for me. It’s completely different!”

“‘S not.”

“ _It is!_ ”

Aziraphale stood up, unable to keep his tears controlled, streaming down his cheeks. He sniffled audibly, grabbing the basket and miracling everything back inside of it with a snap of his fingers.

“H-Hey,” Crowley said, surprised, trying to grab his wrist, but Aziraphale moved away. “Hey, angel. _Wait_.”

But Aziraphale was already walking away. He knew he was overreacting. However, that matter was very delicate for him and he wasn’t still in completely control of the trauma that he acquired after months of thinking Crowley would die because of him.

“Aziraphale,” he heard Crowley following him. “For fuck’s sake, _wait_!”

He didn’t, although Crowley reached him in the end, circling him and standing before him, making him stop. Aziraphale didn’t look at him and tried to walk past him, but he moved again to block his way.

“ _Hey_. Hey, listen. I apologize, alright? I’m being a selfish idiot, I know,” Crowley said, desperate.

“Indeed,” Aziraphale grunted, keeping his eyes away from him.

“I just…” He sighed, seeming to struggle with words, swaying a little nervously. “I-I can’t either, okay?”

Aziraphale looked at him at last. “What do you mean?”

He gulped, tilting his head down and sinking his hands inside his pockets, gaze fixed on his shoes. “I can’t… Live without you either,” he muttered with a faint voice. “A-And I know how… You felt ‘cause when I thought you died at the bookshop that day I… You couldn’t see me when you found me after but I was… Well, getting very smashed in a pub. I didn’t care about Apocalypse anymore. I had… No reason to save the world if you… _You know_.”

“Oh…” The angel breathed out, feeling his tears gathering faster now. “ _Crowley_.”

“Don’t want that for you,” Crowley growled, clearly embarrassed. “I don’t want to you feel that ever again. And let alone for me. You’d still have everything else you love here, even without me.”

Aziraphale sniffled, staring at the lovely demon through his tears. “If you understand the feeling, you’re reflecting it very badly on me,” he said, sighing. “Maybe it’s not been like this in the past but it is now. I enjoy reading, yes. But if I ever lost you, I couldn’t read most of the books there are, because I’d found you in every word and I wouldn’t be able to stand it. And I enjoy food and drinks, but the meals I remember as the most delightful are the ones I’ve shared with you. And I can say the same for anything else you claim I love. You’re everywhere in my memories. You’re the only thing that hasn’t changed in my life and after these months I’ve realized how dull everything turns if you are not with me. And I know you think very poorly of yourself and maybe it’s my fault too but… Crowley, believe me: you deserve the same you give in return. And you’ve been risking yourself and caring for me since the start. And I can’t promise I won’t do the same because _I want to do it_ and I truly believe you deserve so.”

Crowley was very still, barely breathing and Aziraphale just breathed in, drying his tears and sniffling. Aziraphale understood it would take long for Crowley to understand how much he was loved and meanwhile their relationship was still platonic it’d be harder to show him. The angel knew Crowley was a demon of actions and Aziraphale needed all the actions of love available to really show him. Meanwhile, he only could use his words and the acts of love he’d used until then.

He sighed, tilting his head down and grabbing the basket again. “We should go now. It’s getting late.”

Aziraphale started to walk again and Crowley followed. The ride back to the bookshop was silent. None of them said a word. They just sat on their respective spots, breathing in the palpable tension gathering inside the car. Aziraphale was feeling rather stupid, thinking in retrospective how he had acted. He had made a scene, really. And the most probable thing was that Crowley was feeling even more conflicted and uncomfortable after the confession of the angel, even if he’d admitted feeling similar. During that month, Aziraphale had been trying to keep his love controlled until Crowley was ready, but he’d exploded during their conversation at the park.

When Crowley stopped before the bookshop, the angel was surprised by two things. First, there was nobody on the street, which was certainly unusual. Second, Crowley turned off the car and got out. He thought that after their little fight Crowley would drop him and drive away. However, he circled the car and opened his door, extending a hand. Aziraphale felt his chest flushing and accepted it, letting Crowley help him get out. His expression was unreadable again, thanks to the glasses, again covering his eyes. Nevertheless, Aziraphale was overwhelmed by the gentleness of his gesture and when he started to walk towards the door his feet seemed to be stepping over clouds.

Crowley had followed him, although keeping a brief distance. When Aziraphale opened the door, he turned to the demon, standing behind him. He knew the disappointment had to be visible on his expression. He knew the position Crowley adopted whenever he wanted to get inside the bookshop and when he was just accompanying him to the door to say goodnight. Crowley wasn’t staying that night. He should have seen it coming after everything.

“We should do this again someday,” Aziraphale said anyway, trying to smile and seem convincing.

“Yup,” Crowley muttered, hands in his pockets again.

“Well, then…” He sighed, swallowing his disappointment. “Are you amenable for lunch tomorrow? We could go to the Ritz or… I don’t know.”

“Sure. Whatever you want.”

“Alright. Uhm…” The angel almost whispered, trying to prolong the moment, not wanting to part just yet.

Crowley moved closer then and Aziraphale held his breath when he took off his glasses, hanging them from the neck of his shirt. The demon gave him an apologetic look and breathed out, dropping his gaze after a couple of seconds.

“I’m sorry about before. I won’t ask you that ever again,” Crowley said.

“Oh… It’s not… It’s alright, actually. I understand your concern,” Aziraphale muttered, a little guilty. “I can promise I’ll be very careful from now on, if that gives you some peace.”

Crowley puffed, a little smile reaching his lips, and he tilted his head up again, his eyes shining a bit. “C’mon, angel. Admit it. I’ll always end up rescuing you. You have a magnet for trouble.”

“I suppose I have,” he tittered. “It’s not that bad when you gave a fancy guardian demon to look after you.”

“What?” He snickered, his smile growing. “I’ll take fancy demon. But, _guardian_?” Crowley growled, displeased. “Are you trying to ruin my reputation?”

“You’ve managed to do that yourself already,” Aziraphale teased him, more relaxed at Crowley’s lighter tone.

Instead of being offended, Crowley smiled more and Aziraphale backed himself against the doorstep, struck by how beautiful the demon looked suddenly. It was very rare to see him laughing and smiling so openly and it was one of the most wonderful things Aziraphale had seen in his existence.

When his smile vanished, a tender expression remained on his features. Crowley stepped closer, invading completely the angel’s space, an Aziraphale panicked a little with the realization of what was about to happen. He straightened up a bit, nervous, thinking that maybe he was making up things until Crowley rose his hands, tentatively ghosting over his cheeks for a few seconds before cupping his face. Aziraphale gasped, feeling how warm they were, how perfect they felt.

“Do you still want…?” Crowley whispered with a rough voice and gulped, closing the distance more until their bodies were almost touching. His pupils widened and his irises started to expand again. “You weren’t clear and I… I don’t really know what you want.”

Aziraphale breathed out, the air getting out of his lungs brokenly. “You,” he sighed. “In… Every possible way.”

“That’s,” Crowley’s voice broke and he blushed a little, furrowing with desperation, “not very clear either.”

“Oh, _please_ …” He sighed, slightly annoyed. “You’re being oblivious on purpose?”

“ _No_ ,” he grunted softly, pressing his forehead against the angel’s. “I just don’t want to fuck this up more.”

Aziraphale closed his eyes, overwhelmed, starting to tremble. He took his hands to the small of the demon’s back, holding him closer.

“Just… You can kiss me if you… Really want to,” Aziraphale muttered, trying to keep his voice from trembling too. He failed miserably.

Crowley made a throaty sound, his breath colliding mercilessly against Aziraphale’s lips. “Since the start, angel, I’ve wanted to,” he mumbled, getting closer.

The angel whined softly, his eyes dropping to Crowley’s lips and raising to his eyes again. Aziraphale breathed in slowly, trying to control the tingling taking over his body, sensing that if he didn’t, something he’d been keeping leashed for millennia would explode. But Crowley was looking at him with such a loving gaze, so full of desperation and emotion, that he suspected that resilience would be futile once the demon finally kissed him.

And he was scared. He’d thought himself ready to take this step and… It was not that he wasn’t, but the magnitude of his feelings seemed too much to contain and he didn’t want to be too fast for Crowley. How ironic. The universe seemed to be laughing at him for being an idiot for centuries. Maybe he deserved it.

When their noses touched as Crowley leaned to him more, Aziraphale’s eyes fluttered closed and their lips were barely brushing but _oh_ … The electricity gathering in that brief space between them was enough to have his senses reeling. Crowley caressed his face with his thumbs, slowly tracing the line of his cheekbones again and again.

“I love you too, Aziraphale,” Crowley whispered, ever so softly against his mouth, right before closing the gap completely.

The combination of his words and the soft sensation of his lips made Aziraphale whine, melting between the doorstep and Crowley’s body. They barely moved at first, joined in a gentle peck and, then, Crowley started to properly kiss him. He captured his mouth with utter tenderness, treating his lips as if he was worshipping Aziraphale. His hands travelled up Crowley’s back, placing them higher and pressing him completely against his body. They both moaned inside the kiss and Crowley’s hands slightly tightened their grip on his face and he tensed up. Aziraphale parted his lips, inviting, and the demon seemed to understand right away. His tongue, already forked, caressed his lower lip softly, tracing a reverent line before proceeding to explore the inside of his mouth. Aziraphale grunted, shaken with absolute pleasure, his tongue searching for Crowley’s right away. He started to feel under his hands how the demon was trembling too and held onto his black jacket, trying to hold himself back. However, he couldn’t help the hunger attacking him now, kissing Crowley back with increasing passion.

Aziraphale claimed his mouth, his lips dancing over Crowley’s with the same devotion he was receiving. The demon growled, shaking, and bit his lower lip, clearly being careful but affected all the same. A rush of pleasure ran through Aziraphale, making him moan louder, and sunk his hands in Crowley’s hair, pushing him deeper inside the kiss. Crowley didn’t resist, not at all, and let the angel kiss him hungrily, answering with whines and little moans that clouded completely Aziraphale’s reason.

He should have suspected that if you repress something for so long, when you have the slightest bit of relief, the dam breaks completely. He’d been repressing his love and want for Crowley for longer than he could even recall and now, with Crowley kissing him, with his love covering him whole, his pure affection reaching his own soul, and — _oh Lord help him—_ his beautiful body pressing mercilessly against his… He couldn’t anymore.

He opened the door with a miracle, pulling away from the kiss roughly as he walked backwards to get inside the bookshop. Crowley opened his eyes, staring at him with wide eyes, pupils blown and lips swollen, clearly startled. However, before he could reach the phase of confusion, Aziraphale grabbed him by the lapels of his coat, dragging him in and pulling him to a desperate kiss.

Aziraphale closed the door again, snapping his fingers, drowning in Crowley and hoping — _desperately hoping_ — for that night to be the night they finally surrendered and gave themselves to each other.

But, first, he needed to be sure. He needed to ask Crowley if he wanted this, if he was alright, if they could do this. He pulled away slowly from the kiss this time, their gazes meeting.

Aziraphale breathed in, ready to ask. And, then, before the dishevelled and beautiful demon, looking at him with uncontained love, he found himself speechless.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Seems somebody is a little too flustered... Well, well...
> 
> You can find me on [Tumblr](https://nuria-schnee.tumblr.com//)!


	5. Show me the source of the light, I'm becoming affected

And Aziraphale found no words. No matter how hard he tried.

He kept staring at Crowley, _his beautiful, lovely demon_ , and just found a need that couldn’t be verbalised. He realized then that, all those authors who got into the hard endeavour of describing the depths of love and the desire it carried, just brushed the surface of it. Or maybe it was just he was experiencing the frenzy they also mentioned: the moment when the powerfulness of the feeling overwhelmed your senses in such a manner that the only thing you could think about was _him_ , his body, all of his love over you, encircling, possessing, claiming until there was just one soul shared by two bodies. And that if you didn’t have him, right now, right there, you would surely die.

The difference here was none of them had been falling slowly in love for six thousand years and beard the forbidding of it by forces that were insurmountable for their ineffable nature. None of them had burned in secret for millennia, wanting but just able to watch from a safe distance, to measure every single word, to restrain the need to touch, to say, to love. He’d been an angel _forbidden to love_. And he had accepted it. Had defended it, even, at some point, because… Well, it wasn’t right. How stupid it sounded now. How couldn’t it be right to love?

Anyway, Aziraphale could have lived for another six thousand years with their relationship just being friendly; platonic, if lucky. It wouldn’t have mattered, because the demon was there.

Until Crowley almost died.

Aziraphale had waited too much and, for months, he thought that maybe he’d never have another opportunity. And Crowley lived. Crowley survived. And he was there, real, as lively, and annoying, and wonderful as always. And, finally, both had been honest about their love, and kissed as if the world was ending again.

And the angel was powerless, unable to talk, let alone to describe what was feeling. All he felt was the strong force of his repression breaking and the bright incandescence of his love and want for Crowley, heightened by the love he’d thought lost and now was recovered and possible. _Finally_.

When Aziraphale threw himself at Crowley, cupping his face and pressing him against the door to kiss him, he thought being possessed would be something similar to what he was experiencing right then. His mind felt clouded, his thoughts short and confusing, and his body burned as if he was standing in the middle of a gentle bonfire. Instinct and need guided his actions, but love tainted them, and he just wanted _more_ , _more_ , _more_.

He kissed Crowley hard, needy as he was, not masking the way his whole body responded to the softness of the demon’s lips and the way his hands rose to sink in his blond curls. Crowley seemed to surrender to his mouth, opening up with a trust that made Aziraphale’s knees wobbly.

Forgetting he was trying to ask for permission, too intoxicated with his warmth and his spicy scent, he whined, liking inside his mouth and biting his lower lip, trying to find more of both. Crowley growled, his heat filling the brief space between their bodies, attracting Aziraphale as if they were two magnets. The angel pressed their bodies together, making both of them moan, so close and yet not enough, burning together through their clothes. It was as frustrating as sweet and had Aziraphale reeling.

With an unpremeditated movement —innocent, really—, just trying to press himself better against the demon, Aziraphale made their hips brush in the right way to make both of them aware of the other’s hard erection. This ripped a gasp from them at the same time, the kiss breaking and gazes meeting.

Aziraphale climbed down a little from his drunk and possessed state. Better take the chance before he lost his mind again.

“D-Do you want… _Uh_ … Me?” Aziraphale muttered between little gasps, feeling his face incredibly hot and his heart hammering wildly with hope.

“Ngk… ‘Course I do,” Crowley chocked out, bright red and gaze full of desire as much as surprise.

“Yes?” He breathed out, almost whining.

“Fuck… Yes. _Yes_ ,” Crowley indeed whined.

“Are you sure?” Aziraphale said, stuttering a little, giving him a desperate look. “I-I don’t… We don’t have to do this now.”

“Aziraphale, you can’t push me against a door like that and not…” Crowley protested, furrowing, helplessness filling his expression. “ _Shit_ … I fucking want you so much it hurts. A-Always have. ‘M in for whatever you want. Just… _Ugh_.”

Aziraphale whimpered, the madness returning to strike his senses, and kissed Crowley with the restrained passion and love of six thousand years, finding himself kissed back with the same force of Crowley’s own restricted feelings.

What Aziraphale wanted was for Crowley to lay down on his bed upstairs and not worry for a thing for the rest of the night. Crowley had always been there, doing things for the angel, caring and worrying about him —even if he only could show it through his acts, never through words—. And, now, Aziraphale wanted to return every one of his favours, to shower him with love and pleasure and show him how loved and wanted he was. Aziraphale wanted him to understand how much he needed him.

Not taking away his mouth from Crowley, lowering to ravish his neck with kisses and bites, Aziraphale took off his own coat, miracling it on the rack before it collided against the floor. Crowley writhed against him and moaned, the grip on his curls tightening.

“ _A-Angel_ ,” he gasped, tilting his head back to give him more access to his neck.

He did the same thing with Crowley’s coat, before breaking the contact with his neck and lowering, his hands gripping the back of the demon’s thighs. Crowley looked at him from above, eyes dull with lust and want, dubitative. Aziraphale kept the connexion of their gazes unbroken as he pushed his legs up and rested them on his hips. With a strangled noise, Crowley hold onto him awkwardly, startled, but didn’t have time to say anything or be embarrassed. Snapping his fingers, Aziraphale sent both of them to his bedroom upstairs; concretely, on his bed, with the angel above a very flustered demon.

Crowley gaped, seeming the one to struggle with words now, blushing more at every second that passed. Aziraphale found himself mesmerized by the image, his chest tightening at how utterly beautiful his demon looked there, hair splayed on the mattress, flustered and confused.

“What I want is to love you tonight with all I have,” Aziraphale whispered, lowering to place a soft kiss on his lips, on his cheek, lids, forehead. “And for you not to worry about anything. I want to take care of you for once, darling,” he backed on his forearms, raising more, his body hovering over Crowley’s. “Will you let me?”

“Ngh… Y-Yeah,” Crowley managed, although barely.

Aziraphale sighed, giving him a little smile, partially from nerves, but also from blissful excitement, and returned to his mouth. He kissed him deeply as his fingers searched for the edge of his black sweater and undershirt, gripping them. Raising slightly on his knees, he pushed them up and Crowley arched enough to make it easier. When he let them fall somewhere, he was unable to look away as Crowley reclined back again. His body seemed to riot in a thousand ways, all at once: skin burning, brain short-circuiting, heart soaring, insides exploding, and crotch becoming painfully hard.

Crowley gulped, seeming to shudder a little, his eyes sparkling with a bit of disbelief and a ton of eagerness. Without averting his eyes, Aziraphale undid his bowtie and unbuttoned his vest, breathing in, trying to calm down enough before he miracled all their clothes away and ravished Crowley as if he was actually possessed. He’d had those extremely lewd thoughts before, with Crowley always the protagonist, but he never thought those scenarios could become a reality. Now, with the demon willing to accept every piece of his love, half-naked, Aziraphale was having a hard time holding back. One thing was kissing and taking off clothes carelessly and the other very different was proceeding further in such a manner. It had taken them six millennia to get there and Aziraphale wanted to do this right. He didn’t want to restrict his need to love Crowley, just slow down his impulses enough not to have both of them finished in five minutes.

He wanted this to be a night for both of them, a memory to be committed, cherished for the rest of their existences.

Getting undressed under Crowley’s scrutiny didn’t end up being as embarrassing as he thought when he started to unbutton his vest. Maybe was because it was easier. The amount of nervousness that gave him see new inches of Crowley’s skin was far greater than revealing his own body. Not that they hadn’t seen each other before; they did, but never in such an intimate moment.

Aziraphale get rid of his vest, continued with his shirt, breathing in and out, looking at Crowley, who also seemed to be drinking from the view of him. Even if he didn’t understand why Crowley was —very obviously— attacked to him physically, the angel was grateful and relieved for it. The demon was fully a temptation, being who he was; his corporation, a sin made to draw you into him. And Aziraphale had fallen for him, hard, and shamed himself for it for centuries, until the present moment, when he just wanted to give in completely. So, he’d been worried that Crowley didn’t find him appealing. Not in that way, at least. Apparently, it had been a stupid concern.

Crowley was clearly enjoying the stripping and it was calming Aziraphale enough to come back to a certain steadiness of his senses, so he kept going. He opened his shirt, let it fall away. Same with his undershirt; Crowley uttered a whine, chest heaving, and cheeks and ears reddening. Next, he slipped down to the floor, standing before the bed’s edge, and Crowley reclined over his forearms to keep looking as the angel took off his shoes and socks. Standing straight again, he unzipped his trousers and pushed them down along with his underwear.

“ _Fuck_ …” Crowley whispered, so softly Aziraphale almost missed it.

Aziraphale returned to him, kneeling between his bent but spread legs, and braced himself, starting to work on the demon’s belt, trying to ignore the hot shudder the sight of his covered erection gave him. He was careful while doing this, aware of the tightness of Crowley’s trousers, which probably were already hurting him, a pain he didn’t want to increase being rough. He sunk his fingers under the edge of his trousers and boxers, gripping them to slid them down his legs. Crowley helped, squirming and moving a little. Until he hadn’t undressed him totally, socks included, the angel didn’t dare to look at the complete nakedness of him. Which had been a good idea, considering how it ignited Aziraphale at the very moment he laid his eyes on him.

They were both bare, physically and spiritually, and, after millennia, there was nothing to hide, no need to pretend anymore. And, honestly, Aziraphale found it a little terrifying, just for a moment. This was far from whatever he’d felt before. This was his true love, splayed for him, wanting him with obvious desperation and radiating such powerful waves of love that could make him collapse, boneless at the intensity of them. This was everything he’d wanted and everything he didn’t dare to imagine, let alone to hope. This was the moment that would tear him and change his whole life. Once he had this, he’d never be able to live without Crowley. The only thing he’d ever want was being in that bed with him, loving him, making up for every moment he’d failed or hurt him.

Placing himself between his legs, still not daring to lay on him, he caressed Crowley’s face, who was looking at him with an adoration that was enough to break him already. He was breathing heavily and quieter than Aziraphale had ever seen him. If it wasn’t for the way he was trembling, clear even at sight, he’d almost seem a statue.

Crowley half-closed his eyes, leaning against Aziraphale’s palm, although his irises kept fixed on his face.

“Goodness, Crowley… You are so beautiful,” Aziraphale sighed.

The demon emitted a growl and furrowed, clearly wanting to protest but words failing him. Aziraphale continued there, hovering over him, caressing and observing him. His thumb travelled down his face, tracing the lines of his lips, sensing the softness of them on his fingertip. Crowley sighed, kissing it softly, and clenching his jaw as if he was holding back himself from doing something filthy. Aziraphale felt his whole body light up with love, a soft laugh escaping him, and he laid down on him finally, pressing their bodies together and taking his mouth again.

The sensation made them both moan loudly inside the kiss, try to press harder against the other, Crowley holding onto his back desperately and Aziraphale rubbing himself against his body. He could feel every inch of Crowley, all his warmth and edges, either soft or hard, and sensed the resilience he’d been gathering shattering again.

He lowered his kisses to his throat, sucking and biting, tongue trancing lines over his skin, accompanying his attentions with the motion of his hands, caressing down his body. Crowley whined, arching into his touch, his fingers digging into the flesh of his back and legs moving restlessly, brushing against this the small of his back and thighs. Aziraphale lowered and lowered, not leaving an inch of Crowley’s trunk unattended as he did, either licked or decorated with a soft red mark, until he was hovering over his cock, fully hard and leaking.

Crowley uttered a broken sound, between a whine and a plea, and tilted his head up to look at Aziraphale.

“Dear…” He mumbled, his voice so hoarse he barely recognized it as his. “Can I touch you? And… Suck you?”

The demon whimpered brokenly. “Y-Yeah. Whatever you want,” he answered.

Nodding, he placed a few kisses on his inner thighs and drove his hand to his cock, gripping it softly. The touch, without any movement, already made Crowley let out a soft moan, which fired up Aziraphale, who had to contain himself to avoid starting stroking him with abandon right away. He started softly, working on a gradual pace, enjoying the view of the demon laying on the mattress, surrendered, moaning and breathing heavily. However, he couldn’t restrain himself completely, sinking between the demon’s legs soon after, taking him slowly into his mouth but all at once. He felt Crowley arching up with a loud moan, his hands suddenly gripping his hair.

“ _Fuck, angel_ ,” he shouted and Aziraphale started to bob his head, which made him lay down again. “ _Fuck. Fuck. Fuck_. That’s… _Shit_. D-Don’t stop.”

Aziraphale moaned, licking as he moved up and down, feeling a hard shiver running down his spine at Crowley’s broken moans. He’d imagined this more times than he could recall, but the real thing was better than he could have ever pictured. Having his cock in his mouth, tasting him and pleasuring him until he was practically writhing and begging with wordless whimpers and moans, was almost a religious experience. And he knew what he was talking about, could compare easily.

“Yes! _Ah_ , fu… _Yes_ , _Aziraphale_!” He whined, gripping his hair tighter, his thighs shaking at his sides. “Pl- _Please_ … _Shit_ …”

He’d be lying if he said driving Crowley so mad that he was completely rambling was something that wasn’t filling him with pride. He just wanted to give him more, hear him more, sense everything of him… So, he grabbed the base of his cock with his hand, starting to stroke him as he sucked and bobbed his head over the tip of it.

Crowley had to be close, considering he was starting to move his hips up and his hands were gripping him harder now. Aziraphale took his hand away, holding one of Crowley’s above his head, interlacing them in a new grip, and sunk on his cock deeper. The demon screamed, moaning a series of incoherent curses at the implication of what Aziraphale was doing, and they both moved until Crowley uttered a loud groan that echoed against the four walls of the room, spilling inside the angel’s mouth. Aziraphale drank him in, enjoying every whine the demon made as he was in his high. When he started to relax and was just gasping, Aziraphale rose from between his legs, drying his mouth with the back of his hand and crawling up to Crowley, who had his eyes closed and his features were still painted with the bliss of his orgasm. Aziraphale, smiling, kissed his neck and face, and he shivered under his attentions, seeming a little oversensitive. Eventually, with a little laughter, Crowley opened his eyes, gazing at him with disbelief and utter love.

“You sure you’re not trying to discorporate me?” Crowley breathed out, with a rough voice.

“Not at all,” he tittered, kissing him.

“Well, you’re close enough,” he sighed, breaking the kiss for a second.

Aziraphale slipped his arms under him, hugging him close as he kissed him deeper, and Crowley did the same, embracing him tightly, whining as their tongues met. They rubbed against the other, sharing their warmth, moaning and whining at the closeness. Aziraphale sensed Crowley getting hard between them quickly, and the angel couldn’t help whimpering inside his mouth at it.

“Angel,” Crowley backed away just an inch, pressing his forehead against his, eyes closed. “ _Angel_ , I swear… If you don’t fuck me right now I’ll lose my mind.”

Aziraphale shuddered, his cock twitching unavoidably, a gasp escaping his lips. He backed away a little to look at the demon better, who finally opened his lids to look at him. His eyes were fully serpentine, his pupils blown wide.

“Uh… I’m afraid I should… Get you ready first, darling,” he managed to mutter.

The demon made a sound of desperation, deflating against the bed but giving him a nod. Gulping nervously, Aziraphale kneeled between his legs, suppressing a whine at the loss of contact with his body. He parted his legs and pressed his palm against one of his thighs, pushing his bent leg up and holding it there. Miracling lube over his fingers, he took them to his hole, teasing it softly and earning a gasp from Crowley. The angel breathed, looking down and focusing on the task, needing to put himself in order a little.

When felt Crowley relaxing, he pushed one digit in slowly, gingerly. It took all of him not to moan at the tightness and the hotness he felt around his finger. However, he sensed his own skin set on fire once more. He pushed deeper, thrust backwards and pushed in again. Crowley moaned at the sensation and, even if Aziraphale wasn’t looking at him now, he could feel the demon’s gaze on him.

“You have no right to look so ethereal while doing this,” Crowley muttered between gasps.

Aziraphale breathed out a laugh, not averting his gaze from his hand working him open, and added another finger with supreme carefulness. “Well, you look perfectly sinful, dear. Isn’t it fair, then?”

He heard Crowley gulp loudly and deflated again. Aziraphale moving his fingers slowly, adding a third and scissoring them to stretch the demon the right way, just then brave enough to search for the spot that, effectively, made Crowley shout with pleasure. Crowley pushed himself down against his hand as he started to thrust into him with his fingers, hitting his prostate every time.

“ _Aziraphale_ ,” he growled eventually, protesting but also pleading, flushing in a way that the angel found endearing more than sinful. “ _For fuck’s sake_ … It’s enough.”

“Right,” he gasped, realizing he’d been stretching the moment. He was actually very nervous. “Forgive me. I didn’t intend to tease.”

Finally, he rose his eyes, withdrawing his hand. Crowley made a face at the lack of his touch, but immediately gave him an eager look when he moved to hover over him again. They both placed better on the bed, Crowley laying with his head over the pillows, and Aziraphale settled between his legs.

Breathing in, the angel contemplated the demon under him, feeling for a second that he was seeing him for the first time. And, maybe, it was little bit true. He’d never seen Crowley like this, open and unafraid of being so. He’d given himself completely to Aziraphale, not hesitating for a moment, trusting to him his body and his feelings in equal parts.

Crowley furrowed, worry painting his expression, and just then Aziraphale realized he was getting tear-eyed. He blinked his tears away.

“Sorry,” he whispered.

“You alright?” Crowley gasped, leaning up a little. “We can stop, if you...”

“No. Oh, dear, no,” he lowered, pressing a kiss between his brows and then looking him in the eye again. “It’s just… Allow me to be a little emotional, will you? This is… More than I hoped for.”

Pressing his lips into a thin line, Crowley looked at him with a pained expression. “C’mon…” He breathed out, and Aziraphale didn’t know if he wasn’t believing him or he couldn’t believe the angel wanted this so much.

“It’s true,” he said, just in case. “And you are so… Wonderful, inside and out… I’m certainly the one losing my mind here, I’m afraid.”

The demon blushed a little and averted his eyes for a moment, as if he wanted to hide. Aziraphale beamed, closing the distance completely, kissing him on his mouth, and then moved to trace his jaw and neck. He miracled more lube on his hand, stroking himself to slick his cock. He rose from the demon’s neck then, gazing at him, both of them gasping again.

“Crowley,” he whined. “Can I, now?”

“Yes. _Yes, please_ ,” he muttered roughly, equally needy.

Crowley encircled his hips with his legs when Aziraphale brushed his entrance with the tip of his cock. The angel backed himself on his palms, slowly pushing inside the demon’s body.

He definitely was losing his mind.

It took him a few seconds to bottom out but, when he did, he almost fell over Crowley’s body, weakened. Everything he could feel suddenly was Crowley. Crowley all around him, hot and slick and tight. Crowley’s moan hammering on his eardrums. Crowley’s nails scratching his back. Crowley. Crowley everywhere.

And… His love.

As soon as he sunk home, as he was deep into the demon’s body, he felt his love more clearly than ever. No more barriers. No more restraining. Crowley and him, their love… Everything was out in the open. And he wanted more. He wanted more of it. _Needed all of it_.

Crowley gave him a desperate and needy look when he withdrew, almost getting out of him completely, just to sink down as slowly as the last time again. The demon closed his eyes tightly, holding onto his shoulders, his expression one of pure rapture.

“ _Aziraphale, fuck_ …” He whined, his hips angling with him better, tilting his head backwards, leaving the perfect line of his neck completely visible.

He leaned over to place a few kisses on his neck and jaw, sweetly, taking advantage of the last seconds that he probably had of sanity before he was utterly consumed by his demon.

“I love you, Crowley,” he whispered with the need echoing in his tone. “I love you so much…”

Crowley answered with a whimper and Aziraphale took a deep breath before moving his hips backwards and thrusting in faster and harder this time. The demon moaned, tilting his head up again, locking his also teary eyes with Aziraphale’s, his legs constricting him more, _closer_.

Gingerly, but trying to be sure of his movements before speeding up, Aziraphale found a steady rhythm, which had both of them moaning openly very fast. The sensations were so overwhelming it almost hurt. The pleasure their bodies provided as they joined together was huge, but what had Aziraphale reeling was the sounds he ripped from Crowley, the openness of his gaze as he seemed to ask him silently to never stop, and the way the demon was clinging to him as if he was a lifeline. Aziraphale was completely absorbed by the image under him, with Crowley surrendered to the pleasure, his skin starting to shine with sweat, lips swollen from kisses, parted to let moans and whines escape. And _his eyes_. He was lost in those eyes, could look at them forever.

He was quickening and hardening his thrusts without noticing. He just did when Crowley let out a broken and loud moan and his hands left his back to grab the wooden bars of the bedhead.

“Oh _, fuck_. Ah- _Aziraphale,_ ” he moaned desperately, eyes misty and full of unhidden lust. “Fuck, angel. _Just like that_. Don’t stop doing that, _please_.”

Actually, he wasn’t sure of what he was doing anymore. His body seemed to move on his own and his mind was so full of Crowley that there wasn’t much more space for any other thoughts. So, he let his body keep doing its thing, sinking deeper into the moment until he barely could reason anything out.

The movement of their bodies was frantic now, gasps and moans and glances full of desire and love filling the space between their faces, which was getting shorter as Aziraphale’s arms were giving out. Surrendering to the inevitability of it, Aziraphale backed his weight on his forearms and passed them under Crowley, sinking his hands on his messy hair. Crowley whined, embracing him again, hard, desperately, and searched for his mouth as if he was running out of air and really needed it to avoid dying.

Aziraphale complied, kissing him just as desperate, thrusting even harder but erratically, feeling a pool of heat growing in his stomach. He wanted to touch Crowley, to come together with him, but sacrifice the way their bodies were pressed together now seemed a crime. But he wanted Crowley to feel good. He deserved it. He deserved everything.

“I-I love you too,” Crowley moaned when Aziraphale withdrew from the kiss, closing his eyes and tilting his head backwards, leaning onto his hands cupping it. “I fucking love you, angel. _I love you_.”

This gave him enough strength to risk the grip on his hair and the contact of their bodies, kneeling between his legs, one hand holding one of his hips and the other grabbing his cock. Whining, Crowley looked at him again through a half-lidded gaze, and held on the bars again as Aziraphale thrust harder into him and stroked him at the same time. He arched, shouted brokenly, completely lost in the pleasure.

“Fuck. Fuck. Fuck. _Angel_! _Fuck, Aziraphale_!” He moaned with complete desperation.

After shouting his name, Crowley uttered a loud groan, spilling over his hand and clenching around his cock, sending Aziraphale directly into his own orgasm, closing his eyes tightly and tilting his head back, spilling inside him, throbbing harder than he remembered doing. Between their moans and whines and the bliss of their climaxes, Aziraphale heard a distant crack.

When he climbed down his high a little, he opened his eyes to see the demon, who was beautifully ruined and spent… And had a couple of broken bars of wood in the grip of his hands. He was covering his face with his arms, still gasping, chest heaving roughly.

Aziraphale couldn’t help laughing. He got out of Crowley —reluctantly— and snapped his fingers to miracle away all their fluids and fix the bedhead. Crowley emitted a low growl, not uncovering himself. He crawled up to meet his lovely demon, pushing his arms up with gentleness above his head. Crowley rested them there, over the pillows and his messy mane, and looked at him, letting out a long sigh.

“I hope that slip of demonic force was because you enjoyed yourself and not because it was unbearable,” Aziraphale teased.

“‘S been fucking fantastic,” Crowley argued, seeming genuinely offended. “‘Course I enjoyed it. The wait’s been totally worth it. I’d wait another six thousand damned years again if I knew you’d fuck me like that afterwards.”

“ _My dear_ ,” Aziraphale muttered, feeling his face growing hot and his stomach tingling. “Seriously.”

“Don’t be all shy now. You nearly broke me here,” he teased with a smirk. “Are you sure you’re still an angel?”

“Of course that I am,” he protested, offended.

“Guess it was the bastard in you then,” he added, the smirk growing.

“ _Crowley_ ,” Aziraphale reprimanded him with a pout.

Crowley laughed and his eyes filled with fondness and love, a sight that made Aziraphale weak all over. The demon looked so beautiful that Aziraphale felt drawn to him once more, kissing him as sweetly as he could. They found themselves being a mess of limbs and wet kisses once again, very fast, gripping and caressing every place they could reach.

When Aziraphale was thinking of what he could offer to the demon now, he sensed his gravity shifting for a second, his back colliding against something soft. Opening his eyes, startled, he found himself laying down on the mattress with Crowley hovering over him, pushing his long hair aside, resting it against one of his shoulders and falling like a fiery waterfall, the tips of it caressing the angel’s skin and producing a soft tingling.

Aziraphale gulped, as surprised as aroused by the demon over him, giving him a look that showed clearly that Crowley wanted nothing else but to devour him.

“Will you let me have my turn now?” The demon purred, leaning down to be closer to his face.

“W-What?” Aziraphale sighed, his brain having exploded with the temptation that was clearly falling on him.

“Did you seriously wanted to do everything tonight?” He arched a brow, inquiring.

“W-Well… Yes, actually,” the angel managed to whisper.

Crowley softened and cupped his cheeks, ever so gently, and pressed a soft peck against his lips, stretching the moment for a few seconds. When he broke the kiss, he barely backed away, his mouth still lingering over Aziraphale’s, yellow eyes burning into his, fingertips caressing his face with supreme carefulness.

“I’ve been wanting you for six thousand years, angel,” he whispered, absolutely vehement. “You can’t expect me to stay quiet the whole night. Don’t get me wrong. I’d let you take me like that whenever, but I want… To touch you too. To give you whatever you want. Make you feel good. You know… Without having to worry about anything.”

“ _Oh_.”

Aziraphale contemplated his demon, always eager to give, and even if he pictured this night differently, letting him have his way was also acceptable. Just the offering of it had him quivering and found himself unable to deny him.

“Alright.”

The sky was starting to clear when they finally fell on the mattress to rest, panting and completely spent. The night that had started with Aziraphale making love to Crowley continued with Crowley returning the favour, and kept going and going with which turned into a confusing mix of position changes and limbs and kisses and caresses. They both had their moment to give and receive, until both options seemed to blur into one. Six thousand years of repression could hardly occupy one single night, but it was a start. And they certainly cherished and used well every second of it. There would be more.

Or so Crowley hoped.

The last month had been a swirl of deep sorrow and utter happiness for him. The angel brightened his days in a way that seemed almost impossible, but what he’d done still haunted him. He didn’t think he deserved any of this, although couldn’t help himself from wanting it anyway. And Aziraphale had wanted him, loved him profoundly. He’d forgiven him. It had to be enough.

Considering how badly the night had started, the end of it was a welcome surprise for the demon. He still couldn’t believe this wasn’t a dream, even if his whole body was aching but relaxed due to hours of uninterrupted sex, love bites all over, sweat drying over his skin and making it sticky. And, most importantly, he had a content Aziraphale by his side, looking at him with an adoration that made him shiver.

Crowley had never felt so full of life in his whole existence. Being loved by Aziraphale so openly, kissed and adored as he was something to be treasured… It was life-changing for him, after six thousand years of thinking that was impossible. The way Aziraphale had looked at him the whole night, how he had held onto him and grabbed him as if he wanted to keep him there forever, how he had almost prayed Crowley’s name in his moans… All that gave him a reason to actually consider forgiving himself. Properly.

If he could give something so good to Aziraphale, if he could make him as happy and joyful as he did that night… Maybe there was still hope for his damned soul, hope to live the rest of his days next to the angel and be able to love him every one of them.

They fell asleep, holding each other, snuggling as close as it was physically possible. When Crowley woke up, Aziraphale was still asleep and the sun was high in the sky. Smiling, Crowley laid there, watching him with disbelief. He caressed his curls and cheek, ever so tenderly, trying not to wake him, since it was very rare to see him sleeping. And he seemed so content and relaxed… Crowley’s heart was soaring, filled with a joy that was as new as welcome.

After a while, Crowley slipped off the bed, grabbing his clothes from the floor. He needed a shower urgently, and walked out of the bedroom while thinking he could cook something for lunch afterwards. He walked down the hall of the angel’s flat, directing his steps towards the bathroom.

All of a sudden, he felt a sudden pain crossing his chest.

He stopped in the middle of the hallway, pressing his palm against his skin, a momentary wave of panic running through him. He didn’t feel anything out of the ordinary. No pain. No dizziness.

Crowley decided that he had imagined the pain.

And ignored it completely.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Oh, oh... That wasn't a good idea, my friend.
> 
> I wanted this to be longer but my anxiety is kicking my ass lately so, anyway... I hope you enjoyed <3 Hopefully, it won't take me two weeks to update this again.
> 
> You can find me on [Tumblr](https://nuria-schnee.tumblr.com/)!


	6. When the sun comes up, we'll be nothing but dust

Crowley had been sitting in the middle of his plants’ room for two hours. Not moving. Barely breathing. Just waiting to hear a knock on his front door, gaze lost in front of him. It was easier to hold back, if he was very quiet.

He hadn’t talked to Aziraphale for a week. Not after what happened, something that the angel didn’t even know. Actually, he didn’t know at all what was happening inside Crowley.

After the first morning together, Crowley felt a sudden pain crossing his chest and ignored it. He also ignored the pain when happened two days after that, which lasted more than a second, and the following day, and every day for almost two weeks.

And, after fourteen days of intermittent moments of pain, the mental swirl began. Crowley started to have brief mood changes, breezes of hatred and fury inside his mind, nightmares of hurting Aziraphale —of wanting to—, and his body started to feel stiff and sometimes gave him short waves of displeasure when the angel touched him.

Crowley was scared. He was so scared he couldn’t even think clearly. He closed himself in his bathroom some nights, in the dark, trying to swallow down those feelings and sensations, trying to convince himself _this was not happening_. This couldn’t be happening.

He’d trusted Aziraphale, thrown himself into a relationship with him confident that he was fine again. He’d fucking forgiven himself for what he did to the angel even. But they both had been wrong. This was far from over. It just had stopped for a while. Once the angel started to shower him with love and affection, that dark part settled inside him had started to revolt again, wanting to consume Aziraphale, to make him disappear.

They had two weeks of happiness, of calm and security. They had basked in those feelings, showing to the other what they had repressed for six millennia. And Crowley had trusted this was life now, living with Aziraphale, being his partner in every sense. He’d refused to acknowledge something could be wrong, that that bubble they were in could burst. Crowley desperately wanted to be happy with Aziraphale.

But that wasn’t possible. He’d denied the undeniable: he was still broken.

After those fourteen days, it just got worse. The pain increased and he felt as if he was slowly losing his mind again, sinking into a kind of darkness that, even him being a demon, was foreign to him. And now he was awake and the damage he could do to the one he loved the most was urging him to be still, be so still as a statue most of the time. Now, Aziraphale was there always, at his disposal, and he didn’t trust himself.

If he was already tormented by his past actions and the ones that filled his mind now, out of his control and sense, a thing that happened two days previous at him being sitting on that floor, made the situation worse.

Aziraphale wasn’t stupid. He knew something was going on, but not exactly what. He’d realized Crowley was getting more evasive, more reluctant to be close and touch, and closing into himself. Crowley knew Aziraphale was worried, although couldn’t bring himself to admit the truth. He was scared that if he voiced it out, he would backfire as he did in his mind, and that was something he couldn’t let happen.

So, Aziraphale brought it up in the end, appearing at Crowley’s in the middle of the night, looking tired and broken. He asked, pleaded Crowley to talk to him about what was happening, why he hadn’t kissed or touched him for days, why he was being so cold. Crowley tried not to look at him, not to breath his scent much, and talked slowly. Crowley felt cornered; he didn’t know how to do this. He didn’t want to, but _had to_. And he’d _tried_. He’d tried to break up with all of him that night, but the angel didn’t let him. With the resilience of a Principality and the desperation of a lover who knows he’s about to be left behind, pulled him to a kiss, took him to bed. Crowley, carried by his own heart, shattering by the ineffability of the culmination of their love, let it happen, restraining the darkness in him all he could.

The night was a mess. Every touch and kiss felt like a goodbye, every glance of the angel a desperate plea. Aziraphale knew what they were advancing to, was silently asking Crowley to stay. And Crowley made love to him as if he was asking for forgiveness, aware that he couldn’t comply with what Aziraphale wanted this time. By the end of it, Aziraphale had fallen asleep in his arms and Crowley was wide awake, feeling a guiltness that was eating him faster than the darkness.

But the darkness was always there and when Crowley felt it increasing exponentially fast, he slipped out of the bed, putting space between them. He swallowed down, closed his eyes and put on his trousers without looking at him. He had to get out of the room, maybe take a very cold shower. The angel would be there for a while and had his angel’s scent all over him, igniting that primary resort in his nature, urging him to hurt. Once in the bathroom, he realized, standing in front of the mirror, that he had one of Aziraphale’s little feathers in his hair. He grabbed it, pulling it out with his fingers.

The feather burned, disappearing in his grip, turning into nothing.

Crowley looked at the emptiness, horrified, _terrified_ , feeling the scent of celestial energy crushed under demonic power. He ran out of the building, got into his Bentley, without shirt and barefoot, not caring a bit. He just had to get away from the angel, very, _very far, very fast, right now_. Crowley couldn’t even remember where he went. He remembered parking on a sideway at some point of the road, huffing and crying, holding onto the wheel with his forehead pressed against it for who knows how long. When he managed to control himself, he returned to his flat and Aziraphale was gone.

Whatever this darkness was, it was greater now. Crowley had to actually distance him enough from Aziraphale to avoid hurting him. Breaking his heart was preferable to smite him, even if he’d hate himself for it anyway. If there was any luck, it’d be just temporary.

Crowley had a plan. He’d try to find a way to cure himself and really get rid of this darkness. However, he couldn’t tell Aziraphale this. If he knew, he would want to come with him, to help. Crowley would let him, _of course he would_ , if he wasn’t such a danger for him. He’d never hurt Aziraphale like this if he had another option. The problem was that he didn’t know how much of that darkness was his anymore, how much was just a side effect. Anyhow, he wanted to come back to the angel. Wanted to feel himself again.

The doorbell echoed inside the flat. Crowley stood up slowly, moved through the hallway to go open the door. He felt Aziraphale at the other side, closed his eyes tightly for a second before opening. Standing there, forlorn and torn, Aziraphale looked at him with dull eyes.

“Thank you for coming,” Crowley whispered roughly. He’d called him a few hours ago to meet, to end this before it got worse. He had to leave as soon as possible.

Aziraphale didn’t say a thing, averted his eyes, dropping them to the floor. With a heavy sigh, Crowley backed away and the angel walked in tentatively. When he closed the door, the flat seemed to become more silent even.

“Care for a drink?” He whispered, stepping further into the flat. “I think I have some wine.”

“Crowley,” Aziraphale said, voice dry.

The demon stopped, turning around. Aziraphale hadn’t moved and was looking at him with the most lifeless gaze he’d ever seen on him. Standing there, immersed in the faint shadows of the hall, he seemed like a broken doll, porcelain shattered and shine faded away.

“Tell me what you need to,” he asked, although it sounded as if he wanted to beg but didn’t have the energy anymore. “But don’t prolong this. Don’t do it.”

Crowley was silent for a few seconds, contemplating how broken his love was. _Better heartbroken than smitten_ , he reminded himself internally as he closed the distance a bit, walking towards him. He wanted to do this without lying to him, but it was hard, and the guilt of hiding something from him weighted a ton over his head.

“It’s not working, Aziraphale,” he breathed out, barely able to look at his face while doing so. “Us. This. Not for me, at least.”

Aziraphale breathed in as his eyes got misty, clearly trying to hold back the tears. His Adam’s apple bobbed as he swallowed a few times, trying to get something out of his mouth.

“May I know why?” Aziraphale managed with the faintest voice. “I… Thought this… Was what you wanted. I thought you were… Happy with me.”

The demon had to physically tense in order not to break right there and then. He tried to take a deep breath, but his lungs had closed. “Yeah, angel. I did. But… I had some expectations that haven’t…” He stopped himself. That sounded horrible, as if he was blaming him, and he didn’t want that. “It’s my fault, seriously. I think I wasn’t ready. ‘S just that. I feel the same for you. I _want_ to be with you. But I need more time. I need to… Heal, before I can do this. This is temporary.”

Aziraphale nodded, averting his eyes and biting inside his cheek. He breathed in. “You could have told me that, you know? Instead of being cold and running away. I would have understood,” he said a bit angrily.

“I’m sorry,” he breathed out. “Didn’t know how.”

A tear escaped from his restrain, rolling down his pale cheek, which Aziraphale rushed to dry, sniffling. Crowley gathered the totality of his forces, afraid that he might regret what he was about to do, and that it was risky, but he needed to comfort Aziraphale. Just in the case he failed to cure himself. Just in case he couldn’t return.

Aziraphale gave him a slightly scared glance when he approached, hugging him softly and placing a soft kiss on the top of his head. The angel trembled a little in his embrace, returning it. Crowley closed his eyes, committing to memory the moment, the way Aziraphale felt in his arms, the soft sensation of his curls over his lips, his flowery scent… Just in case.

“I love you, angel,” Crowley muttered. “Never doubt that.”

The angel whimpered softly against his chest, hugging him tighter. Crowley caressed his back, bracing himself, and pulled away a little, taking one hand to his chin to make the angel look up, their gazes meeting. With all the softness surviving in him, Crowley kissed his forehead, lids, cheeks, nose, and, finally, pressed a soft peck over his lips. When he was about to back away, Aziraphale rose his hands to his hair, cupping the back of his head, as if he was pleading for more. Taking the risk, holding back the darkness, Crowley kissed him properly, stretching the moment as much as his strength complied.

They looked at each other in the brief distance between their faces and Aziraphale seemed unable to hold back the tears more, so he let them fall in the end. Crowley cupped his face with both hands, drying his tears as they fell with his thumbs.

“I’ll go on a trip for a while,” Crowley said softly. “Will be easier for both if we have a bit of space.”

Aziraphale slowly let go of him, backing away, a panicked expression slowly taking over his features. “This isn’t sounding temporary at all, suddenly” he breathed out.

“ _Angel_ …” Crowley mumbled, surprised.

“Time and space? Really?” He protested, his eyes flooding.

“I didn’t mean it like that,” he argued softly, furrowing.

“Right,” Aziraphale blurted out, sniffling, clearly being sarcastic. He looked away. “ _Right._ ”

“Aziraphale, c’mon…”

“No,” he cut him off, approaching the door and opening it. “I don’t want to hear anything else. You’ve been clear enough.”

“ _Aziraphale_ ,” he called after him, tried to reach him, just to have the door closed before him.

Crowley stood still there for a while, letting silent tears fall, feeling the darkness consume him a little bit more.

When he was able to move again, he packed a few things, made a miracle over the plants to keep them alive for as much time as necessary, said goodbye to the Bentley and took a taxi to the airport. When he was finally in a plane directed to Romania, looking through the window, he had a bad feeling, the kind of premonitory feeling one has before something terrible happens. The moment the plane took off, Crowley thought that, no matter how much he wanted to, he would never come back to London.

Crowley spent three hours sitting on the bed’s edge, looking at the balcony’s pool, right in front of him, with a letter between his fingers. Sometimes, he averted his eyes to the table placed on a corner of the room, where a plastic bottle full of holy water waited.

More than three months had passed since he left London. He’d been travelling, moving constantly, visiting occultists and other uncatalogued experts in dark forces to find a cure for himself. However, he failed in finding a solution and, when he found himself somewhere in Greece —in Santorini, concretely—, he knew his time had run out. At that point, he felt more like a hellish beast than a demon. His line of thought was more diluted every day, to the point that he barely felt he was there anymore. Everything in him was that darkness consuming him and the last trace of himself left was extinguishing itself with the effort of keeping him sane for enough time. He closed himself in that luxurious room in a random hotel in Santorini and just existed for a little more.

He’d paid a young boy to get him a bottle of holy water at the nearest church before doing so and hadn’t used it yet because he was waiting to have a moment when he felt himself again. He needed just a few minutes of clarity, enough time to write a letter to Aziraphale.

The angel would hate him forever for what he was about to do, for what he’d done. The only thing that kept him there, sitting on that bed, was the thought of Aziraphale breaking down while reading he was gone for good. Crowley was about to hurt Aziraphale in the worst way he could and, even so, he still thought he had to.

This thing happening to him, whatever it was, hadn’t a solution. And before taking Aziraphale’s life under this mantle of darkness eating him, he preferred ending it all.

With a snap of his fingers, he sent the letter to lay over Aziraphale’s desk at the bookshop. He stood, putting on his glasses resting on the table and grabbed the bottle of holy water. Crowley wasn’t scared when he got out of the room, holding the cause of his approaching destruction. He was just tired and sad. However, the thoughts of Aziraphale during those six million years helped to go on.

He walked to a hidden cave near the shore. Once inside, he put the bottle down on the floor, thinking of Aziraphale smiling. He undressed, piling his clothes next to him, thinking of Aziraphale talking and laughing. He picked up the bottle again, unscrewed the tap, thinking of the first time Aziraphale had told him that he loved him.

“I love you,” he whispered, a single tear falling down his cheek, raising the bottle.

Crowley closed his eyes, thinking of the first time he saw Aziraphale and sensed the spark of love blooming inside his heart, and inclined the bottle to let the water fall over him.

Aziraphale sensed the spark of Crowley’s demonic power inside the bookshop instantly and jumped from his chair right away, putting the book aside. He followed the trace with pure desperation, finding the letter on his desk, his name written over it with Crowley’s calligraphy.

He’d been martyrizing himself after their last conversation, feeling stupid and guilty for overreacting in such a way. He’d returned to the flat the next morning but Crowley was already gone. The demon had also left his mobile behind, so he was impossible to find and he hadn’t tried to call Aziraphale either, wherever he was. Aziraphale found himself enclosed in his bookshop, worrying and unable to do anything but wait for a miracle, for Crowley to appear one day, crossing the door with a smirk, like he always did.

So, when he saw the letter, he picked it up quickly and opened it without much care, needing to read it right then. However, when he read the first lines, he dropped on the chair, feeling his life being drained whole all of a sudden.

> _Aziraphale, my love:_
> 
> _I’m writing this in a gap of time in which I can feel like myself again. It won’t last long, so I’m afraid I have to be quick, so… I’m sorry. I know it won’t matter that I am, but I am anyway. I didn’t want to vanish forever and don’t make you know what happened; you deserve to know. The thing is we were both wrong: whatever that happened to me a few months ago didn’t disappear, just gave me a break. This darkness has been eating me ever since and I had to make a decision. As soon as we got together it started to happen again and got worse as the days passed. I know you’ll hate me for not telling you but, love, you would’ve followed me and that was something I couldn’t allow. I’m actually dangerous and I couldn’t risk hurting you again. That’s something you can hate me for too, for breaking all my promises. I apologize, truly, though I can’t bring myself to regret doing this. My whole existence I had been trying to keep you safe and, if I’m the danger, and this is the only solution, I can’t regret sacrificing myself. And, believe me, I’ve tried. I’ve tried to find another way. This trip was to put a safe distance between us, because I don’t trust myself when I don’t feel like me, but also to find a way to get rid of this curse. I’ve been searching and visiting people related to my lot who I thought could help, and everything has been in vain. This was my last option, I promise, but I’ve ran out of time and alternatives._
> 
> _Aziraphale, I love you. I’ve loved you since the start. I loved you even when I didn’t know what this feeling was and I’ll love you ‘til the last moment of my existence. Contrarily of what I know you’ll blame yourself of, you gave me life. Every moment with you has been what kept me moving, what gave me hope. You’ve been my light and, even if I’m dying because of this darkness, I’m not dying in the shadows. Please, remember this. I don’t have regrets, Aziraphale. If I have any, it’s not having been strong enough to fight this and stay with you. I wanted to. It’s all I ever wanted. And you gave it to me, for the brief time of peace we had at our disposal. You made me the happiest demon in the whole universe and I hope I returned, at least, some of that joy to you. And, if you can forgive me one day, even if a little, please: don’t let anybody know I wrote something this sappy. My reputation would never recover from it._
> 
> _I don’t have more time and I won’t tell you how you have to feel. I know how badly I will hurt you with this and I know how hard it is to lose somebody. I have no excuse. But I will ask you to move on, my love. You will live without me. You can. And it will be fine someday. This world, the one we saved, is your place, and you’ll always have love in you to hold onto. You’ll never be alone. So, don’t cry more than it’s necessary and live the freedom you deserve. And, I beg you… Don’t blame yourself. This wasn’t your fault, alright?_
> 
> _Yours eternally, Antony J. Crowley_

Aziraphale didn’t have time to cry or process completely what he’d read. All of him activated with the urgency _to run, search him, stop the stupid, reckless and selfish demon_. He could feel him still. He was still alive, wherever he was, and the letter had been sent a few minutes ago. Closing his eyes, he miracled himself there, following Crowley’s energy in the plane that mixed with the earthly one. He ended up in which seemed a luxurious room of a hotel, with a few of Crowley’s things here and there. But he wasn’t there. He was close, but not there.

As if he was possessed, he ran out of the room, rushing out of the hotel and throwing himself to the streets of that city, following the trace of the demon. He felt frantic, scared like never before. As the minutes passed and the situation sunk deeper in him, he realized the demon probably had in his possession holy water and that was all that mattered now. If he was late, if he didn’t reach him in time…

He found himself following Crowley to a beach and, when he was rushing over the sand, he felt him very close. His heart was beating wildly and his skin very cold with terror, but he sensed a spark of hope. He was almost there. He could do it, could save Crowley.

Aziraphale saw the entrance of the cave, felt Crowley there. He ran faster, trying to reach it with all of him. He was almost there when it happened.

Crowley’s presence vanished completely.

He froze, a hard shiver taking over his whole body, his eyes unfocused for a few seconds. Then, he started to run again.

“Crowley!”

_No. Please, no_.

He moved fast, although barely acknowledging he was doing so, stepping into the cave.

_Please. This is not happening. Can’t be happening_.

“Crowley, please!”

_No. No. No_.

“ _Crowley_! Answer me!”

Aziraphale stopped dead in his tracks, about to step over a pile of dark clothes. Dark clothes laying next to a pool of holy water, with the scent of sulphur and celestial power hovering in the air. And he couldn’t feel Crowley. He couldn’t feel Crowley at all.

He’d been late.

Aziraphale fell on his knees, grabbed the clothes and hugged them against his chest.

_He’d been too late_.

Aziraphale laid on the bed of the hotel room for almost a day. Not moving. Not crying. Suddenly, he dragged himself to the table, grabbed a paper, and started writing.

> _6th of June_
> 
> _You’ve gone._
> 
> _~~Crowley.~~ _ _You’ve gone and you’ve left me here, without you. You’ve taken everything with you —my heart, my soul— and forgot about me. ~~Why? Why, my love?~~ I know it’s my fault. And I know this is my punishment. I know. And I wish you’ve been aware of it too. I should have been the one to disappear. This is all because I couldn’t love you the way you deserved. And I didn’t deserve you. ~~I didn’t deser~~_

He stood up suddenly, leaving the letter unfinished, laying on the bed again. The next day, he found himself doing the same.

> _7th of June_
> 
> _I’m waiting. I haven’t moved from here, haven’t stopped looking at the door. I still pray for you to appear, for this to be a misunderstanding. But I know that it’s not. ~~Dear~~ , I can’t even ask for forgiveness. I don’t deserve it. _

And again, the following day.

> _8th of June_
> 
> _I don’t want to feel anything._
> 
> _I don’t want to feel this lack of you. I don’t want to believe this is just the eternal truth I’m facing. If I do, I’m afraid to sink into it. I’m afraid. I’m afraid all the time. I’m afraid. Afraid. Afraid._
> 
> _~~Please, come back. Crowley. Please, I need you.~~ _

After writing that letter, he closed himself in the bathroom, got inside the shower with his clothes on and stayed under the gelid water for hours. He was losing his mind.

> _9th of June_
> 
> _~~CrowleyCrowleyCrowleyCrowleyCrowleyCrowleyCrowleyCrowleyCrowleyCrowleyCrowleyCrowleyCrowleyCrowleyCrowleyCrowleyCrowleyCrowleyCrowleyCrowleyCrowleyCrowleyCrowleyCrowleyCrowleyCrowleyCrowleyCrowleyCrowleyCrowleyCrowleyCrowleyCrowleyCrowleyCrowleyCrowleyCrowleyCrowleyCrowleyCrowl Forgive me I’m sorry I’m so so sorry, please~~ _
> 
> _10th of June_
> 
> _~~Come back. I beg you. Come back. I know you have to be somewhere. Please. Return to me. You can’t be~~ _
> 
> _11th of June_
> 
> _I can’t live without you. I can’t._
> 
> _12th of June_
> 
> _~~Take me with you. Please. I’ll do anything. I’ll take your place. I’ll give my life for yours. This can’t be the end.~~ _ _Come back._
> 
> _13th of June_
> 
> _~~I won’t say it. I won’t write it down. I haven’t seen it. I don’t feel it. I won’t accept it. It can’t be. I won’t.~~ _

The frantic thoughts stopped after a few days and Aziraphale found himself exhausted. His mind stilled, sinking in a state of calmness, brought by the acceptance that Crowley was dead.

After that, he was just left with grief, grief he just could express through words. He didn’t even had the energy to cry anymore.

> _14th of June_
> 
> _Crowley. I love you._
> 
> _I will always love you. If only I could tell you one more time…_
> 
> _I wish I had been enough. I wish I had been better. You deserved everything and received very little. You fallen in love with the only angel who would fail in loving. And even if loved you with my whole being… It wasn’t enough, because I was a coward. I was created to love and protect and I failed in my task. I failed you. Every minute since we met, I failed you. How could you love me, dear? How could you look at me the way you did? Why did you come back every time, no matter what I said? Love, I deserved none of it. I’m not holy, I realize that now. You were. The purest soul in the whole creation. And I destroyed you. I tried to keep you, but keep you far enough. And I hesitated and doubted and I should have loved you since the very start and I ended up destroying you. I made you destroy yourself._
> 
> _I’ve resigned, Crowley. I know you are not coming back. This emptiness is too huge and I wished I had the energy to keep lying to myself, but I don’t have the will to. I’ll never see you again, or hear your voice, or see your beautiful face. I lost our time and reached you too late. I had already broken you and driven you to a point of no return. I’ve sunk in this reality and I’m just hoping this hole in my soul consumes me at some point. I’ll wait here. I’ll hope to follow you quickly._
> 
> _I love you. I love you. I’ll love you until I cease to exist._
> 
> _Yours eternally, Aziraphale_

Aziraphale returned to the bed, hugged one of Crowley’s shirts, and the exhaustion made him slowly drift to sleep. That night, he dreamt of Crowley and, when he woke up, he found the necessity to write it down, just in case his shaken mind forgot.

> _15th of June_
> 
> _I’ve dreamed of you, dear._
> 
> _Staying awake it’s too hard and the waiting too long. My body surrendered to slumber last night and, love… I saw you. You came to me in my dreams, smiling with mischief on your lips and love in your eyes. We were in my bookshop again; it just seemed another night. And you sat on my lap, pushed aside the book I was reading, and kissed me as if the world was about to end again. Crowley, it seemed real. I wished it was real. And, when I’ve woken up, and realized the world was forever empty of your lovely existence… I can’t describe this pain. Nothing but the intensity of it exists for me now. It’s all I have, all that remains._
> 
> _I never quite understood your indulgence in sleeping. I think I understand now. If I can see you in my dreams, even if you’re not real… My love, I will drown myself in all the dreams I can. Even if you’re not real, I can’t resist seeing you again. You left me, Crowley. I know why you did and your reasons tear me apart at every breath I take, making me wish I had the possibility to follow you the same way. Nevertheless, I was the harm. I was the curse. I should have been the one to die. And I’m aware you thought I would live even without you. Maybe I would have, if you had been taken away from me differently. But I was the one to drive you to your destruction. And this is something I can’t live with. I’ll lay here and write for you until my soul shatters just like yours or the World ends definitely. And I’ll dream of you, waiting for the moment when this suffering ends._

He kept dreaming and writing, until his pleasant dreams turned into nightmares, his only escape an agony. And he lost the energy to be awake, but also the strength to get up and put some words down on paper. He just laid on the bed, suffering both awake and asleep, praying for his end to happen soon.

When he half opened his eyes, he felt extremely warm and comfortable, as if he’d been sleeping on the softest bed of all beds, wrapped with a thick blanket, with someone hugging him close under it. However, he couldn’t see well at first, couldn’t produce a coherent thought beyond how good he felt.

“Crowley,” he heard a gentle voice calling his name, feminine, the velvety fondness of the tone caressing his eardrums. “Oh, finally you’re awake.”

“Hmmmm,” he growled, sitting, his eyes squeezed shut. Everything was too bright and it hurt.

He felt a soft caress over his head, stroking his hair with fingers that had an energy that went beyond the physical.

“I’ve been waiting for you so long, my son,” the feminine voice said, fingers not stopping their caresses on him. “I missed you. You’ve been so good down there. With a little bit of mischief, but it’s alright,” she tittered.

A part of him, one that he had very buried inside him, recognized the voice, and the hands, and that warm feeling filling him. He snapped his eyes open, gasping when he found a feminine form sitting by his side, made of light with enough contours to discern the edges of her. She smiled fondly, bright eyes sparkling even more, her mane of light floating gently whenever she made a movement.

“M-Mother,” Crowley muttered, blinking once, trying to see if he was really seeing God.

Even more startled when he confirmed it, he looked down at himself, covered with white robes, and then turned around, seeing his wings still black. He turned again, looking directly at his creator, who was still smiling as if this was normal, _as if this was possible_. Crowley glanced around, just finding white everywhere. However, this wasn’t Heaven. This was a different plane.

“I know you are confused,” she said, hugging her knees, and he looked at her with a puzzled expression. “It’s normal. You’ve been through a lot lately. Do you feel alright?”

Crowley just gave a slight nod and God seemed pleased with his answer. As if she didn’t know everything already.

“Good. You’ve been asleep for longer than I expected. But you needed it,” she explained.

“W-Where am I?” He asked, still trying to process God was there with him. “Why are you…?”

God laughed softly, taking her hands to him and cupping his face. He was hit by an overwhelming wave of — _finally, he could recall what it was_ — love. God’s love.

“It’s just a plane. Nothing special about it. I needed an empty one to take care of you,” she said.

“What?” He breathed out.

“Oh, right,” she cocked her head, her smile fading a little, and caressed his cheeks with her thumbs. “Be gentle with yourself. You’ll get back your memories slowly. You sacrificed yourself to save Aziraphale,” she let go of him, resting her hands over her lap, “can you recall?”

He was utterly confused for a moment, before all the memories cleared in his head at once. And he was even more confused now.

“Y-Yeah.”

“I saved you, just in case you were wondering,” she wiggled a little, as if she was proud of herself.

“But you… You cast me away. You ordered my Fall,” he furrowed, although he couldn’t bring himself to be mad or resented. He was so confused he couldn’t feel anything else.

She let out a soft laugh. “I didn’t order any Fall,” God explained, as if she was talking to a little child now. “I don’t command Heaven. The angels act on their own. They’ve always had free will.”

Crowley was blank for a second. “What?”

“I haven’t talked to any of my angels since… Well, I think the last time I talked to one was to Aziraphale, six thousand years ago,” she said, pressing her lips onto a thin line, pensive. “And I really didn’t interfere with Heaven, as soon as I created it. Angels had to follow their own ways.”

“But, the Metatron…”

“Never talked to them.”

“ _Fantastic_ ,” he huffed.

They were silent for a while, God observing him as if she was waiting for something, which was making Crowley very nervous.

“I thought love was ripped from us because you stopped…” Crowley said with a low voice, an ancient pain reviving in his chest.

“Loving you? Oh no, dear. Never. I’ve never stopped loving any of my creatures,” God said very tenderly, reaching for one of his hands, grabbing it between both of hers. “What Heaven thought as a complementary punishment to ‘ _disobey me_ ’” she sighed, as if the memory tired her still, “was very horrible but… It was not my idea. Anything that has happened in my name has been my idea.”

Crowley felt the rage blooming on him at that. It wasn’t relieving at all that she hadn’t made the angels Fall, or caused the Flood, or any of that. She knew and she _did nothing_.

“If it was so horrible, why did you let it happen, then?” Crowley blurted out, backing away from the touch, feeling truly angry now. “Clearly you intervene when you want to. Why see us suffer, falling into sulphur and burning until our wings practically fell apart? Why look us feel cast and alone and tortured? Why let humanity drown, and die, and kill in your name? _Why_?”

Her expression fell, smile fading, but there was utter compression in her eyes. “I understand why you’re angry. But you have to understand I just intervene if it’s strictly necessary. I’m not Santa Claus or the Tooth Fairy. I don’t concede wishes. I can’t avoid suffering and I can’t provide happiness. That ruins the freedom of choice I gave to all creatures, for a start. I just take part if that equilibrium is menaced.”

“That doesn’t sound ineffable at all. Didn’t you decide what would happen when you made everything?”

She smiled again. “No. That would be boring, don’t you think? I quite find the human idea of destiny very sweet. It’s not like they’re hundred per cent wrong, but it’s more a thing of probability.”

“Probability?” He arched a brow.

“Yes. One thing is most probable than others, and that depends of the factors surrounding the events happening. For example, you, being you, as you are, with all the factors that had conditioned you, if also followed this path of probability, would take you right here. The interesting thing about free will is that, even if it’s more probable that I know what will happen, I can’t know for sure. And, modesty apart, I nailed that with humans. Angels are a bit more thick-headed for that. The Ineffable Plan has always been about being able to choose no matter what.”

“I still don’t understand why you saved me,” Crowley muttered, looking at his robes and wings again. “I don’t even know what I am now.”

“You are you. That’s all that matters,” she said lovingly. “And, besides, this was my part of our own secret plan. I had the easy part; you’ve had the hard work here.”

“Huh?”

God gave him a smirk, one that clearly hid a secret. “As I’ve said, be gentle with your memories. They will come back eventually. Your soul is still in shock because of the holy water. Well… And because they were erased when you Fell.”

“What are you even talking about?”

God sighed, looking at him with motherly compassion. “You’re the only one who chose to Fall, Crowley. You searched for it because we agreed you would. In secret, obviously. Nobody in Heaven, or anywhere, knew.”

Crowley raised his brows, shocked. She fidgeted, pressing her lips onto a thin line, raising her hands to his face.

“Maybe I can help a little,” she said, softly placing her fingertips on his temples.

Crowley gasped, feeling a rush of electricity, his vision turning white and mind travelling to a place he’d forgotten about.

_“My child,” he heard behind him after finishing a nebula and putting it in its place._

_He turned around immediately, startled, finding God materialized there, smiling at him fondly._

_“Mother,” he breathed out. He’d never actually seen her before like that, never heard her voice even if every cell of him could recognize it even so, the love that created him._

_God smiled wider. “My star-maker,” she spoke with softness, approaching and grabbing his hand between hers. “You’re doing a lovely job. I’m so proud.”_

_His white wings trembled a little behind him, both excited and surprised at the praising. “T-Thank you, mother,” he said, a bit reverently. “Do you need something of me?”_

_“Actually, I might do,” she said. “But let’s talk about it somewhere else.”_

_He felt a change of gravity, as if he was being pulled upwards, the place around him fading away and clearing again. He looked around, finding himself in a place without beginning or end, made of pure light, and before a font made of marble, full of bright water. God stood in front of him, with the font between them, and kept beaming, placing her hands over the edges._

_“Right,” she breathed out. “I suspect you’ll be very informed about Lucifer and a few more angels causing a little bit of discomfort around Heaven. You know, asking too many things, questioning me… All that.”_

_“I am. Yes,” he said, getting nervous. The first thing he thought was that he’d done something wrong, although he hadn’t heard before of any angel messing something up and being punished directly by God. The Archangels said that could happen, even so._

_“Well…” Her expression turned sad and looked down for a few seconds. “Heaven is preparing to punish them with something called Falling, which will turn them into demons, creatures they will say they’re evil. Hell will be created as an opposite of Heaven, and Lucifer will rule there among the rest of the Fallen and the demons that will be created afterwards.”_

_He let the explanation sink in his mind and found himself horrified. God seemed to notice and gave him a little smile._

_“Don’t be concerned, my child; it’s how it has to be, even if we don’t like it,” God said, a little of resignation in her voice. “I created you, the angels, to choose where to fly. And this is how the things had gone.”_

_“But… That sounds… Awful for them,” he said, his soul trembling with just the thought of losing some of his brothers like that._

_“I know,” she sighed. “But I can’t give you free will and then intervene if I don’t like something. It doesn’t work like that; you must understand that.”_

_“I thought… We were serving you,” he hesitated, unsure._

_God laughed, encircling the font and standing next to him, her mane floating beautifully. She placed a hand over his shoulder, her eyes sparkling with love. “No. Absolutely not, my little one,” she spoke with gentleness, raising her hand to caress his red curls and place a few of them behind his ear. “You’re not my servants. The Archangels have a misconception of things, but they are allowed to be wrong. The problem is that they think they are right, and they will do a lot of awful things in my name. Like this punishment, because they have enough power to do so.”_

_“Oh…” He just muttered, furrowing, trying to replace everything he’d known with the real truth in a second._

_“And I know most of the angels would follow blindly this misconception and those who will question it blindly will Fall,” she said. “However, I know you’ve been doubting both.”_

_He stiffened. He’d been, she was right. And he couldn’t lie to God. She knew the truth. There was no escape. He would Fall too._

_“Don’t worry,” she rushed to say, tittering. “I won’t punish you for it. Free will, remember? That means freedom of thought too. Actually, I’ve wanted to talk to you because I need your help.”_

_“M-My help?” he said, his voice trembling due to the previous panic._

_“Yes. Just if you want, of course,” she added. “You’re a little bit different from the rest of the angels and the fact that you are doubting them and those who will become soon demons, is what shows it.”_

_“What can I do?” He asked, calmer and curious, now he knew he wasn’t in trouble. Falling sounded horrible._

_God smiled knowingly. “Let me give you a little bit of context first.”_

_God told him about destiny and probability and about the way things would develop until the Armageddon started._

_“Heaven and Hell will only want to start a war to know which is better, but they won’t care about my creation, let alone about humans and Earth,” she said in the end. “And I can’t intervene but I think someone will care enough about both to save them.”_

_“Who?”_

_“You,” she smiled._

_“Me?” He furrowed, not understanding._

_“Yes,” she cocked her head, smirking. “But you won’t be alone down there. Do you know Aziraphale?”_

_“Well… No; not exactly. We’re not in the same place of the hierarchy and different ranges don’t interact much,” he explained, feeling stupid because she obviously knew that already. “I know who he is, is all.”_

_“Is enough. He will become a Principality, to guard the gate of Eden, once it’s created. And when the Garden is closed, he will remain on Earth to thwart evil. And, if you want, you will be there.”_

_“Will I become a Principality too?” He asked, confused._

_“No. I’m afraid not,” God muttered, a little sadly. “The thing is… Aziraphale is just like you. He’s on a scale that’s between Heaven’s conceptions of holy and unholy. However, he will be attached to these conceptions more than you are and he will need help to grow apart from them. He will need you. And you will need him. Because you will love him, more than you love me, or anything else.”_

_His eyes widened, looking at his creator with unhidden surprise. “How?”_

_“Because,” she looked at him fondly, “when I created you both, I created something I would only discover later, when you started to live, and choose, and think. I created the potentiality of a new kind of love I thought I’d have to wait to create humans to bring into existence. But I already did it, with you two. And, with it, I interlaced your paths without realizing I had.”_

_“So, I don’t have any other option but love him, no?”_

_“It’s the most probable thing, but it’s not imposed in your being,” she clarified. “But, if you do, if you chose to love him, you’ll do anything to keep him safe, to keep the life you’ll have built by his side.”_

_He blinked, trying to understand, thinking of all she had said. And, suddenly, he started to understand. “You said a demon would temp the first humans into disobedience.”_

_“Yes.”_

_“Am I going to Fall, Mother?”_

_She smiled sadly and he knew he’d hit the nail on the head. “It’s the only way you’ll be able to be with him. As a demon, you’ll be able to do some things that you won’t as an angel. You’ll be freer, in a sense. You are intelligent and very creative, and that will make you earn a permanent job on Earth. But I will never ask you to search your Fall, if you don’t want to. It’ll be very painful and Hell will be an ugly place in more than one sense. You’ll suffer and feel alone most of the time. Even so, if everything goes right, you’ll have a chance to live and love with your companion.”_

_“Does that mean he would love me too?”_

_“Probably,” she muttered, grabbing his hand tenderly. “That’s his decision too. I won’t let you take you this decision blindly. I want you to know exactly what will probably happen.”_

_He nodded and God touched the water with their hands joined. Suddenly, he saw it all: his Fall, meeting Aziraphale, their six thousand years of falling in love and unconditional friendship, averting Armageddon, their freedom, the curse, Aziraphale saving him, getting together and breaking up and, finally, him pouring holy water over himself. There, it stopped,_

_Utterly confused, he gazed at God. “Wait. That’s more than what you said,” he muttered. “Isn’t our purpose to stop the End of the World? Wasn’t everything going to be fine afterwards?”_

_“Not exactly. Your love for him and Earth will make you both save the World and Humanity, yes. But, eventually, Heaven and Hell will join to fight against Humanity and, when that day comes, the love you will share will be necessary once more. You will be the guards of Humanity, the first ethereal beings to embrace the duality of good and bad in them,” she squeezed his hand, reassuring. “But to get to that point, first you will have to let go of those pieces you have to break to be with him, and he will have to learn how not to break them again. Also, you will lose your memories of this conversation and you will not feel my love; you will think I’ve rejected you, abandoned you. That won’t be easy either. So, choose wisely.”_

_“What will happen if I don’t accept?” He asked, horrified by the consequences already._

_God made a dismissive gesture and he guessed he wasn’t supposed to know or the most probable thing, as she had said, was that he accepted that path._

_Either way, he considered the possibility, revisiting the scratches of his future he had seen. He would suffer for long and feel very forsaken. He would yearn for the angel for six millennia, push to the limit his chances of survival for loving him and being his friend. Aziraphale would hurt him badly and it would take long for their love to be possible, just to be shattered again. It wouldn’t be an easy life, precisely. However, he had the first wave of optimism of his existence and held onto the happy side of it. Not every day you had the offering of a life next to the one you’d love forever._

_“I will. I will do it,” he said without hesitating._

_God seemed pleased. “You’re so brave, my son,” she mumbled with a tone of clear proudness. “On my behalf, I’ll save you the day you sacrifice yourself for Aziraphale. And I will return you to him, unbroken,” before her words, he nodded, resilient, and she smiled widely. “Now, you’ll have to join the rebellious angels. And, when you Fall, you’ll forget.”_

_“Alright.”_

_She caressed his cheek, tender. “I’ll miss you, my star-maker, but you’ll always have my love, even if you can’t feel it.”_

It took a few moments for Crowley to process everything after God withdrew her hands to fully process what had happened. What had been truly happening since he fell.

“Oh, fuck,” he breathed out and God laughed. “Can’t believe I forgot this.”

“It was part of the pact. It wouldn’t have worked if you had your memories intact.”

“Oh, shit,” he exclaimed, burying his face on his hands. “We were really meant. I teased Aziraphale for saying that cheesiness all the time.”

“He’s clever,” she said, amused, the laughter still echoing in her voice.

“Wait,” he uncovered himself, shaken by his now recovered memories, and suddenly panicking. “You told me you’d return me to Aziraphale.”

“Yes. I will. I was waiting for you to wake up and be strong enough.”

“Is he alright?” He asked in a rush. “How long I’ve been…?”

“One earthly month,” she answered. “And I’m afraid Aziraphale is not in a very good place right now. He followed you immediately after receiving the letter and found your rests in the cave. He hasn’t moved from your hotel’s room since then. And the prospect is not good if he continues alone.”

Crowley deflated. If he happened to have a body at that moment, it would have shattered. All of a sudden, his mind went frantic, comprehending the implication of those words. He stood up and God imitated him, now giving him a sad expression.

“Take me back,” he pleaded, desperate. “I’ll be fine? Not dangerous? If so, please take me back.”

“I will. Don’t worry,” she said, cupping his face. “But, first, I want you to have the ability to sense my love back again. This way, when the time you two have to face another War, you’ll know I’m on the side of Love. Intrinsically, it’s the reason of everything and you were the origin of it. So, bloom with him, reach happiness and nothing will overcome that power. You both have earned it. And tell him everything, alright? He worries too much. And you, listen to me… You’re not unworthy. You deserve the best of the life you chose.”

Crowley nodded, closing his eyes. God approached him, placing a kiss on his forehead.

“My brave son, go now,” God mumbled, tender and sweet. “And bring light to Aziraphale again.”

Crowley felt his gravity shifting, a force pulling him down, until it stopped. When he opened his eyes again, he realized he was laying over an irregular floor, made of dark stone. With a grunt, he sat up and saw he was dressed in his usual clothes, his long hair falling over his shoulders, contrasting against the black fabric wildly. He had a moment of confusion before remembering God had sent him back, gave him a new body, clean of any curse, and that he was in the same cave where he’d ended it all. And that Aziraphale was suffering right then.

With that in mind, he stood up and rushed out of the cave.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Have I written most of this listening to Everytime by Britney Spears? Yes. Do I have regrets? No. (Sorry, loves. I know this was angsty af.)
> 
> I also got this headcanon of God and Crowley from someone who wrote it on Tumblr and, for my life, I can't find the post. It was fricking beautiful, really.
> 
> Anyway, I hope you enjoyed this. The reunion is coming next chapter and I promise it'll make up this mess.
> 
> Also, you can find me on [Tumblr](https://nuria-schnee.tumblr.com/)!


	7. I know you're chokin' on your fears; already told you, I'm right here

Crowley thought about how to do this best, how to show up without scaring him or causing complete chaos. He stood in front of the room’s door for a few minutes, sweating nervously. If he knocked and Aziraphale opened, they would make a scene, for sure. Besides, he wasn’t sure the angel would open, if he hadn’t gotten out for a month.

In the end, he pushed the door open with a miracle, very slowly, glancing inside as he did. The room was covered by the orangish light of the sunset and sparkling reflections caused by the sun on the pool’s water. Crowley immediately saw the sleeping figure on the bed, disheveled and hugging one of his black shirts.

He closed the door, not making a sound, unable to look away from Aziraphale. His heart broke. In six millennia, he’d never seen the angel in such a state of abandonment. Crowley approached tentatively, sensing his eyes getting teary as he caught more details. His hair was a mess, his skin paler, his clothes wrinkled and there were deep bags under his eyes. He’d also seemed to have lost a little bit of weight.

Crowley bit his lip, holding back a sob, although unable to restrain his tears. He dried them quickly with his fingertips. This was not the moment to cry. He had to fix this. 

He considered what to do. Waking him up probably would startle him and Crowley felt like he needed a bit more of time to prepare himself. He turned towards the table, deciding to wait sitting on the chair. When he approached it, the mess of papers over it caught his attention, even more when he recognized Aziraphale’s writing. Slowly, he sat and picked up one, starting to read.

Thirty minutes later, Crowley found himself hiding behind his hands, heavy tears rolling down his cheeks and trying to cry without making much sound. He’d completely destroyed Aziraphale. There, on those papers, he’d found the depths of the wounds he’d left in the angel’s soul. Aziraphale had mourned him intensely, and also had gone through days of pure craziness, denying, scratching Crowley’s name compulsively. But he hadn’t only been mourning him; the angel had been waiting for his own destruction, renouncing to live. He’d blamed himself for what had happened until  _ not wanting to live anymore _ .

And Aziraphale had warned him. He’d been literal that day at the park and Crowley had been too stubborn, underestimated his own presence in the angel’s life. He should have known Aziraphale would feel like this, would follow him as soon as he received the letter. But… What options did he have? He literally had no other. Picking any other way would have led to him smiting Aziraphale. And that wasn’t a possible solution for him to choose.

“Cr… Crowley,” he heard his name, whined faintly.

Crowley gasped, snapping his head up and uncovering, startled. He looked at the bed, expecting to find Aziraphale gazing at him, maybe with terror, or surprise, or both. However, he was still laying down, eyes closed. A nightmare. He’d been writing about those.

Shaken, Crowley saw how Aziraphale curled into himself, making a grimace, sniffling and whimpering. “Pl-Please, Crowley,” he cried softly and mumbled something incoherent after that. “… ‘ome back,” he muttered then, comprehensible enough.

He writhed, his face contorting even more, hands clenching at Crowley’s shirt tighter. Suddenly, Aziraphale made a sound as if he was in pain and started to cry loudly, shouting Crowley’s name with terror and confusion.

The demon stood on his feet quickly, launching himself towards the angel without thinking about what he was about to do. He was just moving with the impulse of stopping that,  _ stopping it immediately _ . Crowley practically jumped on the bed, kneeling next to Aziraphale, and cupping his face, caressing, grabbing his shoulders and shaking when the angel kept whimpering and screaming without waking up.

“Aziraphale!” He shouted with desperation, bending over him more and cupping his face harder, trying to still him. “Angel, I’m here… Wake up!”

Aziraphale gasped roughly, opening his eyes and bending up. Crowley backed away a little, without taking his hands away from his face, even if the way he was shaking made it hard. The angel stilled suddenly, his eyes opening wide, and laid down again, very slowly, his lips trembling. Crowley sniffled, tears streaming down his cheeks, and bent over again, following Aziraphale. He caressed his pale cheeks, drying his own tears.

“Aziraphale,” he whispered, hurt but tender. “I’m here. It’s alright. It’s over.  _ ‘M here with you _ .”

“ _ Crowley _ ,” he breathed out shudderingly, still immobile, still shocked.

“Yes. ‘S me. You’re fine. You’ll be fine,” he reassured, trying to hold back a sob.

The angel kept completely still for a few seconds, watching him as if he was transparent, his blue gaze focused and unfocused at the same time. Suddenly, he let out a shuddering gasp, backing away roughly, sitting up and putting distance between them. Crowley’s heart sunk at the sight of pure terror on his expression. Aziraphale whined, covering his face with his hands.

“Oh, Lord…” He breathed out, starting to tremble. “I’ve lost my mind…”

“A-Angel, no,” Crowley said as softly as he could. “It’s me. It’s really me.”

Aziraphale sobbed, taking his hands to his ears, eyes tightly shut and a grimace of pain covering his face. “Please, stop,” he whimpered miserably, clearly talking to himself. “ _ Stop this _ .”

“Aziraphale,” Crowley made a little movement, approaching him just a few inches.

He practically fled from him, getting down the bed quickly and putting as much distance as he could, still covering his ears and giving his back to him.

“Stop. Stop it,” he sobbed.

Crowley was profusely panicking too, right then. It was clear that Aziraphale thought he was imagining him and was scared. There had to be a right way to approach this, but Crowley just saw a very shaken angel who thought he’d gone mad and would get worse if he didn’t act fast. Which wasn’t very compatible with acting the right way.

Standing too, he approached Aziraphale, taking brief steps. “Aziraphale,” he spoke with the softest voice he could. “I’m real… You can feel me. I know you can.”

Aziraphale just whined, bending over a bit, as if he was closing into himself more. Crowley kept approaching until standing behind him. 

“I’ll explain, if you want to listen. Just…” He sighed. “I know you’re scared, but you haven’t gone mad. So, please… Look at me.”

The angel was visibly trembling, his shoulders shaking and his fingers so tense they seemed about to dig into his skull. Crowley waited, hoping Aziraphale would turn around; however, he didn’t. Sighing, he opted to circle him, standing before him and evaluating the situation. He wanted to touch him, but it seemed a very bad idea considering how he was now. Crowley, all of a sudden, felt too predatory, too menacing in that position, with the angel weak and breaking down.

Without giving it any more thought, Crowley slowly sank down to the floor, kneeling before Aziraphale, not ever taking his eyes away from his face. He gulped, trying to gather some strength.

“Aziraphale, I’m right here. You just have to open your eyes,” Crowley said, sounding pleading, almost desperate. “I won’t move, won’t try to touch you… Just, look at me. Let me explain.”

Aziraphale lids trembled, tightening more, and he whimpered with absolute misery. He stayed there, breathless, barely able to contain his own tears at the sight of the angel.

“Please…” He begged now, the echo of his need to cry starting to be noticeable.

He deflated, sitting over his calves, when the angel didn’t look at him. A couple of tears escaped his control and he dried them fast, breathing deeply to contain himself. Then, as if this had been a trigger, Aziraphale opened his eyes tentatively, his hands falling from his ears just as slowly. Crowley let out a sound of relief and Aziraphale flinched a little, his eyes covering with tears even more.

“I-I’m sorry,” Crowley muttered, tone watery. “Never thought… This would happen, angel. Believe me. I never thought you’d be so…” He couldn’t even say it. “ _ I’m sorry _ .”

Aziraphale’s eyes went wide then, as if he suddenly was realizing what he was seeing was truly real. His lips trembled and his whole body quickly deflated as if he’d lost all his energy at once. Crowley saw what was coming one second before it happened, recognizing the signs from that moment in the hall of his flat, when Aziraphale saw him awake after months of trying to revive him. He managed to half-stand and encircle Aziraphale’s trunk with his arms, not enough to avoid him from collapsing but enough to soften the hit.

“Fuck,” he grunted, mostly because of the shock of witnessing this again than because of the pain he felt when they both went down to the floor.

Crowley held him tight against him, sensed his terrible trembling and how his hands immediately grabbed the back of his shirt. He felt Aziraphale huffed and sobbed against his neck, pressing his face there, his tears falling on the demon’s skin.

“Crowley…” He cried, trying to press himself closer.

“Yes. I’m here,” Crowley found himself closing his eyes, letting a few tears fall, also shaken by the feeling of Aziraphale in his arms again, warm and real. He never thought he’d be able to hug him again, or even see him once more.

Aziraphale pulled away a little, quickly, taking his hands to his neck, his face, caressing desperately as if he wanted to touch all of him at the same time, eyes frantically scanning his features. “How…?” Aziraphale muttered. “I… I thought…”

“I know,” Crowley breathed out, feeling his mind clouded due to Aziraphale’s touch and the extreme sadness harbored in him. “ _ I’m sorry. I know _ .”

“But… I couldn’t feel you. I…” He stammered, tears rolling down his cheeks, misery written all over his face. “You, in the letter…  _ You said _ …”

Crowley sniffled, hugging Aziraphale closer, not knowing how to explain any of this. He just wanted to hug Aziraphale now, hug him until that sorrow anchored in him disappeared. The angel suddenly cupped his head from behind, sinking his fingers in his long hair and approaching until he was almost sitting on his lap. He closed his eyes, pressing their foreheads and noses, whimpering at the touch, and Crowley fell completely speechless.

“Oh, Crowley…” He whined softly. “You are really here? Please, tell me you are… Tell me this is real.”

“It is,” Crowley assured, relying on the contact and the feeling of Aziraphale’s breath on him. “I’m here with you.”

Aziraphale started to cry again, softly, not backing away. Nevertheless, Crowley stretched his legs completely as he moved the angel to his lap, not leaving any gap between their bodies. He let the demon handle him, sitting on his lap without putting up any resistance and hugging him again when Crowley took him there, holding onto his shoulders and sinking his face on his shoulder once more. Crowley rocked them a little, caressing Aziraphale’s back and hair as he did, with his face hidden against the angel’s neck too.

“I don’t understand,” Aziraphale sighed eventually, not backing away an inch. “I felt you… Go. I haven’t felt you since.”

Crowley stiffened, hugging him harder. However, Aziraphale tried to back away and he loosened his arms around his body to let him. He had to breathe in, facing the wreck the angel was now, to avoid breaking down at the sight.

“Did… Did you lie to me?” He muttered with a voice full of misery, so soft it sounded like a whine. “Did you fake it?”

In that moment, Crowley wished that was the truth. He preferred being a bastard and a liar right then that admitting he’d ended himself for real. He preferred the angel to hate him for lying than that he was miserable due to the reality of the circumstances. Gaping, he tried to say something, failing miserably. Aziraphale watched him, horror filling his features.

“Y-You did,” Aziraphale breathed out, his eyes watering. He took his hands away from him, got off his lap and sat on the floor, putting distance between them. “H-How could you do this?  _ Why _ ?” He cried softly, tears about to spill.

“No, I…” He muttered, his chest tightening at how hurt the angel seemed now, the betrayal written all over his face. 

He tried to approach him but Aziraphale fled from him once more, standing and backing away from him. Crowley stood up too, clenching his fists with impotence, his mind going frantic. 

“I can’t believe you did this,” Aziraphale whined, hugging himself and stepping backwards again. “I can’t believe you did this  _ to me _ . Why, Crowley? You knew… You knew how  _ devastated _ I would be and, still…” He sobbed. 

“That’s not…”

“You have  _ no idea _ what you’ve put me through,” he cut him off, angry. “You’ve let me suffer! And… And I just wanted to disappear too! I wanted to follow you because having lost you was too painful!  _ I couldn’t _ … I’ve blamed myself for everything since then! And you let me believe that…!”

“I did it!” Crowley blurted out desperately and Aziraphale went silent. “I did it, angel, alright? I didn’t lie. I got a bottle of holy water and poured it all over myself. I was  _ desperate _ and I had no other options. I  _ couldn’t _ hurt you. Not again.”

Aziraphale’s features contracted with something close to rage and seemed to want to hit him.

“God saved me,” Crowley said, before the angel smote him. “That’s why I’m still here.”

After a beat, Aziraphale relaxed just a little, as if he was analysing the truth behind his words. Then, he deflated completely and Crowley thought he’d collapse again.

“What?” He breathed out. 

“‘S a long story,” Crowley said. “Maybe… You should sit,” Aziraphale didn’t move and he gulped. “Seriously.”

Even if still reluctant and wary, Aziraphale did. Crowley approached him carefully, deciding to kneel before him again. He told him everything, trying to choose his words with care, not wanting to overwhelm the angel more. However, when he was finished, Aziraphale wasn’t looking at him, shedding silent tears that fell on his lap.

“It’s how it had to be. And I don’t regret a single moment of choosing this. The only thing I hate is that it’s brought you so much pain,” Crowley muttered in the end, reaching for Aziraphale’s hands, placed firmly on his lap, clenched. The angel sobbed at his touch and Crowley took them to his mouth, placing a few gentle kisses over his knuckles. “But we’re both here now. It’s over.”

Aziraphale broke down again, bending over and holding onto Crowley’s shoulders, trembling like a leaf but clearly trying to push the demon towards him. Crowley rose a little, welcoming the angel into an embrace, holding him tighter when he turned a mess of sobs and cries. He caressed his hair and kissed his temple, trying to keep collected.

“I’m so sorry, angel,” he couldn’t stop saying, nevertheless. “I’m here for you. I’m here.”

Eventually, Aziraphale’s cries softened, just hiccups and sniffles escaping him. Crowley didn’t let go, still caressing his curls and stamping little kisses on the side of his face or shoulder. He could feel the tiredness weighing over the angel and choose to back away enough to look at him.

“Let’s lay you down, alright?” Crowley whispered. “You need to rest.”

Aziraphale let the demon move him, not putting up resistance but neither helping. He just let him drag him to lay on the bed and under the covers. Crowley slipped inside too, a little unsure, but unable to stop reassuring the angel now. He moved Aziraphale to rest his head over his chest, slipping an arm under his neck to hold him close. Aziraphale reacted at last, pressing his face against his neck and hugging his trunk. Unable to help it, Crowley sighed with relief and contentment, even if his heart was still broken to see him in that state. The angel hadn’t talked since he’d started explaining and seemed to welcome Crowley’s reassurance. However, he was still worried about it. He didn’t know what he was thinking, if he was mad still or just processing. Meanwhile, he was content with doing this for him, if it helped.

“You Fell for me,” Aziraphale breathed out eventually, not moving, and Crowley wouldn’t have heard him if he wasn’t glued under his ear. “Died for me. Crowley…”

“Shhhh. ‘S fine,” Crowley muttered, pressing a kiss over his head. “You don’t have to worry about that. It’s in the past now. We’re together now. I’m not going anywhere, never again. I promise.”

Aziraphale emitted a little whimper, pressing his face harder against his neck. Five minutes later, the angel had drifted off and Crowley tried to keep his eyes open, but fell asleep too when his energies drained completely. 

  
  
  
  
  


Crowley woke up soon in the morning, the early sun blinding his blurry gaze and a solid but gentle weight against his side. He breathed in, blinking slowly, feeling so at ease that he could have fallen asleep again easily. Nevertheless, as he recovered consciousness, he remembered the night before, getting out of his slumber right away. He looked down at himself, finding the sight of a bunch of messy curls. Smiling, he raised the hand that had been holding the angel close to him all night, firmly placed on his shoulder. His arm was completely numb at first, not responding, but he forced the blood to run through it anyway with a miracle. After a few seconds of tingling, he was moving his fingers over his curls with supreme gentleness, admiring the calmness of his breathing, the way he was holding onto his body, and their legs had intertwined at some point of the night.

Crowley was trying to sink into that moment, being fully aware that things would be difficult again, once Aziraphale woke up. He was certain that he didn’t know yet the extent of brokenness the angel had reached. Nightmares and pain were just the surface, for sure. But he wasn’t taken aback by it. Crowley was ready to do anything to make the angel feel good again, feel safe.

He had an idea, for a start. Looking at the night table at his side, he spotted a menu and reached for it. After going through it for a minute, he miracled an order, which suddenly appeared pinned at the kitchen’s board. In a few minutes, someone from the staff would appear with their breakfast. Meanwhile, he kept caressing Aziraphale.

Soon after, the angel breathed in, wriggled a little and the hand over Crowley’s chest clenched, fisting on his shirt. He grunted softly and Crowley couldn’t help beaming.

“Good morning, angel,” he muttered with a soft tone, voice still husky from sleep.

He wasn’t prepared for Aziraphale suddenly pulling away with a gasp, almost sitting and gazing at him with terror. Crowley gulped, pushing himself to think fast. He reclined right away, placing his hands gently on his shoulders and giving him a reassuring look.

“Hey, ‘s fine,” Crowley muttered, tightening his grip when Aziraphale tried to escape. He rose his hands to his face, cupping his cheeks when the panic hit him, reflected in his gaze. “Aziraphale, shhh. Hey. Remember last night? I’m here. Calm down.”

Aziraphale blinked fast and deflated completely, seeming about to melt against the mattress.

“Cr-Crowley,” he sighed, eyes misty. “It wasn’t a dream…”

“‘Course not,” the demon mumbled, not being able to hold back the sadness in his tone. He lowered his hands to his shoulders, reassuring. 

The angel seemed to struggle to breathe and lowered his eyes to the space between them. Crowley closed the distance more, holding the angel in his arms and settling them on the bed again, laying on their sides this time.

“Have you slept well, at least?” Crowley asked, worried. The angel still had bags under his eyes, but weren’t as noticeable as the night before.

Aziraphale uttered a noncommittal sound, avoiding his eyes. He watched this and the concern that the angel might not forgive him for everything that had happened started to tore him inside.

“Guess ‘m not a very comfortable pillow,” he tried to soothe the tension between them, not succeeding much. “Not that I expect to be. That would mean I’m soft, which I’m  _ certainly _ not.”

In part, he was grateful for the knocking on the door that came right after. Aziraphale jumped a little, startled.

“I asked for breakfast,” he rushed to explain and smirked a little. “Hope you’re hungry.”

He sat on the edge of the bed, ready to head to the door. However, a sudden and tight grip on his wrist made him stay still, turn around to meet Aziraphale’s eyes and an undeniable frightened expression. Crowley sighed, feeling his heart crack more.

“I’m just going to open the door. I’ll be back in a second,” he said softly. “I won’t disappear.”

Aziraphale gulped, letting go of him and looking down, shame settling in his face instead of fear. He would have crawled back into the bed, settled next to him, sent the staff member away. But he was sure the angel hadn’t eaten much that month, if he had eaten anything at all, which was unacceptable; so, he stood up and opened the door. He rushed to grab the tray, close the door again and come back to bed. Crowley put down his coffee and the juice cup on the nightstand before sitting down and placing the tray between them.

“Wasn’t too hard to choose, honestly,” he said, pulling out a little smile and looking down at the crepes and the bowl of strawberries with cream. There was also a huge plate with toasts and different cold meats and cheese, aside from jams and butter in little packages. “But if you want something else…”

“This is fine,” Aziraphale said, still looking down, voice steady.

A loud alarm started to sound inside Crowley’s head at his lack of reaction before succulent food. Crowley himself reached for a couple of toasts while witnessing Aziraphale eating, no sound, no change of expression. Nothing. His coffee tasted incredibly bitter and wasn’t at all because of its savor. The image before him was absolute desolation and he didn’t know what to do.

“Aziraphale,” he muttered eventually, not standing it anymore. The angel stopped eating, putting the fork down, crepes gone and half of the strawberries eaten. “I know you might need time to process everything but I… I want to make you feel better. Tell me what I can do. Anything. You just need to ask.”

“You don’t have to,” Aziraphale sighed, after a beat, and kept eating.

Crowley, broken-hearted, decided to abandon his coffee on the table, since his stomach had closed and refused to let anything in, and waited for the angel to finish. When he did, Crowley grabbed the tray and left it somewhere, sitting on the bed again, anxiety creeping to his chest.

“Do you want me to give you space?” Crowley asked, afraid that he was doing more wrong than right staying too close to him.

The angel had the strongest reaction since he’d woken up then, snapping his head up and looking at him with wide eyes, fear reaching them with frightening speed.

“No,” he gasped, dragging himself closer to the demon and grabbing his arms, almost too tightly. “Please, no. Don’t go.”

Blinking, he stared at the angel, swallowing down the burning sensation on his neck. That had been a bad way to phrase his intentions, definitely. He raised his hands to him, holding onto his biceps gently, nudging him closer. “I won’t. I won’t meanwhile you want me near, I swear,” he assured, reassuring him. “I just… I need to know what you need. I want to fix things, make you feel good again.”

Aziraphale whined, lowering his head and pressing it against his shoulder. Crowley heard him breathe in, gasp, as if he was trying not to cry. “I don’t deserve it,” Aziraphale breathed out. “You’ve always given too much to me, but now… Now I can’t even look at you. You… You’ve endured too much, things worse than I dare to imagine, just to be with me and I just… I haven’t given you anything worth that…”

Crowley panted, hugging Aziraphale and cupping his head to hold him tighter. “Don’t be silly. You’re worth that and much more,” Aziraphale shook his head, still pressed against the crook of his neck, and he sighed. “We have to stop blaming ourselves for what has happened. We have another chance now, without bonds, obligation, and demonic possessions of any sort. God’s gonna kick my butt if we don’t take it, for sure,” he scoffed.

The angel sniffled, not hugging him back, and backed away slowly after a few seconds. Crowley felt his heart sinking at the sight and swallowed, feeling his throat dry with absolute guilt.

“I…” Crowley started, almost whispering. “I know what it is to feel unworthy. Know it too well. And you aren’t. If anything, you’re more worthy than any creature of Her whole creation. You deserve more than I probably can give but…  _ Fuck _ . I’ll give you everything I have. Ask me.  _ Just ask me _ .”

He was expecting tears after such a confession. Truly. The thing was that he was expecting the tears to be less charged with grief than they happened to be. Aziraphale’s face twisted with sadness, tears falling again, and he started to sob, curling into himself a little, as if trying to hide. Crowley had thought he knew everything about desperation but, certainly, he was reaching new levels of it.

“Aziraphale,” he approached him a little, his hands landing on his shoulders with gentleness, with fear. “What is it? What’s wrong?”

_ What’s wrong _ , he scoffed internally, feeling very stupid. Everything was wrong. The angel tried to retreat and turned his face away, whimpering and seeming to want to nudge Crowley away but not wanting to touch him.

“I-I d-don’t…” He stuttered between whimpers. “You-You don’t have t-to pity me.”

“What the hell are you saying?” Crowley blurted out, cupping his face hard, but careful to not hurt him, and made Aziraphale look up, locking their gazes.

The angel gulped, eyes red and shiny and face flushed. “You don’t have to…” He managed. “Be with me if...You don’t… If it’s not the same.”

“ _ What? _ ” He wanted to growl, not able to believe what he was hearing, but it came out a breathless mumble. 

“I… You haven’t…” He looked down, closing his eyes, looking cornered.

Crowley straightened at the words, hopeful. “What? What haven’t I done? Tell me,” he said, desperate. “Tell me and I will do it. Not ‘cause I pity you,  _ for fuck’s sake _ . I want to. ‘Cause I… Love you. You know  _ that _ .”

And, when Aziraphale broke down a little after his words, he realized that  _ no _ : Aziraphale didn’t know that anymore. Or hadn’t been sure.

“Oh,  _ angel _ ,” he almost whimpered, pulling him into a hug again, and the angel whined louder. “ _ My angel _ . This all has been because I do. I’m here still ‘cause I love you. Let me show you. Ask me what you need and it’s yours ‘M yours.”

Aziraphale backed away a few inches, staying close to his face. Crowley waited, looking at him while he tried to drown his sobs, caressing his back gently. The angel wasn’t raising his eyes, still seeming ashamed, but Crowley was determined to rip all those ugly feelings from him, even if it took decades.

“Will you…? Uhm… Will you k…?” He mumbled, unsure.

“Kiss you?” He finished for him and Aziraphale nodded. Crowley sighed with relief, much of his tension seeming to leave his body. “ _ Yessss _ . Yesss. Of course, angel. Of course I will.”

Crowley laid them down again on the bed, under the soft sheets, and, backed on his elbow, he hovered a little over the angel, still half-laying on his side. Tenderly, he cupped his cheek, drying the few tears still falling from his blue eyes, feeling a tingling sensation start to take over him. A known sensation he assumed to be caused by the yearning of wanting to kiss Aziraphale, the rush of emotion of being able again.

He lowered, pressing their lips together with supreme softness, and Aziraphale whined, pain and relief echoing in it in equal parts. The angel clinged onto his back, palms pressing him even lower, until their chests were almost glued. Crowley moaned softly, sinking into the angel’s mouth. He felt the tingling growing, warming his body rather quickly, and he had to grip the sheets with his free hand, overwhelmed, feeling as if he was about to lose control, straddle the angel and kiss him senseless. It wasn’t until their tongues met he realized it wasn’t just excitement or want, or his own love exploding inside his body.

He was feeling love. Azirapahle’s love.

Maybe it was because the angel had put down his barriers at last. Maybe it was because Crowley hadn’t been paying attention or he was just rusty. But he’d completely forgotten about God’s gift. And… What a gift. If this was what Aziraphale had been feeling for six thousand years, Crowley had been more than obvious. 

It was all over him, covering every piece of his existence, enveloping him in ethereal warmth, grounding him and sending him to fly at the same time. It was a magnetism that owned him in his totality, that made his body tingly and his mind ascend. All of him was drowning in it, but he felt as if he could breathe freely for the first time in his whole life. 

Eventually, Crowley noticed his cheeks were wet and kissed Aziraphale deeper, thinking the angel was crying. It took him another second to notice the tears were his own.

They kissed for who knows how long, kisses turning from frantic and desperate to sweet and calming. At some point, they managed to detach their lips and Crowley laid down again, hugging Azirapahle closer. He hid his face against the demon’s chest and Crowley sunk his into the angel’s curls, placed a kiss there, furrowing, barely able to contain the mess of feelings burning inside him.

He felt the angel drifting into sleep soon after and sighed, feeling extremely sorry. He had to be exhausted to an unbearable point if he fell asleep so fast, considering he didn’t like sleeping much. He had to find a way to help him rest again, to make the nightmares disappear so he could sleep a few times and recover his usual routine. Unlike Aziraphale, he couldn’t wish that away or force placid dreams into him. 

Crowley laid here, hugging the angel, and thinking hard and long of how to help him. He sensed a silent force reaching him, a little nudge inside his spirit, and he smiled. She was telling him to keep it up.

  
  
  


It was almost noon when Aziraphale started to writhe between his arms, to make little whimpers and mumble his name. Crowley, feeling his chest tight, tried to wake him up gently, but the angel started to cry and call him louder, and he had to call him back, shake him until he snapped his eyes open. 

They both gasped, breathless for different reasons, and stared at the other until the angel seemed to be there again, in all his senses.

“‘M here,” Crowley whispered, pressing their foreheads. “Breathe. Was just a nightmare.”

“ _ Cr-Crowley _ …” He whined.

“Yeah. It’ll pass. You’ll see.”

Aziraphale made another faint sound and he kissed his lids, his cheeks, drying the angel’s tears with his lips, finally placing a chaste kiss against his mouth. He backed away to give Aziraphale time and space to breathe and calm down. However, the angel cupped his head from behind, pulling him closer again to a crushing kiss. Crowley obliged, making a sound of surprise, but giving into the desperate passion without putting up resistance. 

Too suddenly for him to even react, he had Aziraphale straddling him, passing his hands all over his trunk and face, gasping and kissing him as if he wanted to consume him. His movements were indecise, tentative, and very much desperate, as if he didn’t know how to do whatever he was trying to do. And, honestly, Crowley’s mind was too drunk on Aziraphale to do anything but accept everything. He vaguely heard the snap of fingers, the slight smell of ozone that came after a miracle, and the disappearing of their clothes. Crowley growled loudly, shocked by the feeling of Aziraphale’s skin against him, of his warmth and softness covering him. His insides ignited with pure want, with the blinding desire of being with the angel again.

However, a spark of clarity spurred in his thoughts when Aziraphale left his mouth to kiss his neck, and he grabbed his shoulders immediately, pulling him up.

“Angel, wait,” he asked, breathless, trying to sound gentle.

Aziraphale did, gazing at him, panting and looking completely debauched and shaken. Crowley gulped, glad to have stopped him. Clearly, this wasn’t a good idea now. He caressed his face with his palms, trying to be soothing.

“Maybe… We shouldn’t do this now,” Crowley mumbled, tracing his cheekbones with his thumbs.

“ _ Oh _ ,” Aziraphale’s expression fell, shame and realization hitting him. “ _ Oh, Crowley, _ ” he glanced between them for a brief second, as if noticing he had completely undressed them without even asking. “I’m so sorry, dear. I… I haven’t even...”

“Hey,” Crowley stopped him when he started to panic and kept his eyes on his. “‘S fine. Don’t worry,” he rushed to say and Aziraphale went quiet, but his lip trembled a little and his eyes shone with incipient tears. “Listen. To be clear,  _ I want to _ . In any other moment,  _ fuck _ , I’d let you do anything with me if you came to me like this. So you better note that,” Aziraphale let out a short breathless laugh and Crowley smiled too, relieved. “But I want to be sure you’re okay first. And you don’t seem so now. ‘S just that.”

Aziraphale nodded, still looking ashamed. “I just… Wanted to feel you,” he admitted in a low voice. 

Crowley felt about to melt, air completely punched out of his lungs. What a lucky bastard he was. “That’s…” He muttered. “I can do that.”

The angel gave him a questioning look. Then, Crowley surged a little from the bed and miracled his wings into existence, a soft snap echoing inside the room. Aziraphale gasped, looking at his black wings with surprise. A little of pride swelled inside Crowley’s chest at the sight and he hugged the angel and laid him over his body, between his legs. Once he was settled there, with his head against his chest, Crowley covered them with his wings into a double embrace. The angel whimpered softly at the feeling of black feathers over his skin, of the strong structure of his wings protecting him from the pain. 

Aziraphale moved a bit, to adjust his position, and it made Crowley’s still half-hard erection rub against his belly and he couldn’t help letting out a little moan, not having expected it.

“Sorry,” Aziraphale mumbled, alarmed.

“‘S fine,” Crowley dismissed it, although his head had been set on fire. The angel relaxed at last and Crowley did too. “Better?”

“Yes,” Aziraphale admitted. “This feels… Jolly good.”

Crowley laughed, stupidly in love with that stupid angel. “There’s no need to rush or get out of the bed soon but… I was thinking that maybe we could go eat something, if you want. It’d be a shame to leave Greece without enjoying the food, don’t you think? It’s been a while since we’ve been here.”

The last time they’d been together there, Socrates was still around bothering people around the Agora. Crowley had met very few humans that didn’t need demonic intervention to annoy the shit out of people; Socrates was one of them. 

“It’s true,” he mumbled and started to draw invisible lines over Crowley’s chest with his hand, placed there. Crowley swallowed down a sigh of happiness. 

“Lunch then?” He asked. Honestly, he wanted to get Aziraphale out of that room, return him to the joy of the Earth they had saved.

“Alright,” the angel said softly. “Just… A few more minutes.”

“No problem,” the demon smiled, hugging him tighter.

  
  
  
  


It was midday already when they finally got out of bed, took a shower and dressed in clean and more appropriate clothes. Crowley miracled a pair of black trousers, usual, and added a wine red shirt, unbuttoned enough to show his neck and the way to his chest, in the right position. The color and the exposed skin surprised Aziraphale enough to make him unable to overthink for a while. Which was what Crowley wanted. Once he conjured a pair of glasses and Aziraphale was ready, Crowley interlaced their hands and walked out of the room.

They walked through the streets, probably just seeming another pair of tourists, and the simplicity of it was so strange… They barely had this, in the time they’d been together, and now it seemed to be overflowing around them. Also, Crowley was adjusting again to feel love all around, which was making his demonic side grumpy, but fuelled his sappy mood now he was beside the angel.

They sat on an outside table of a little restaurant and, thankfully, Aziraphale seemed excited enough again to ask for a lot of plates. Crowley looked at him through the table, unable to hide his smile at Aziraphale, not even while drinking wine, growing happier and making sounds again while eating. The amount of adoration he had for him was ridiculous, and never failed to give him a bubbling sensation, as if he was about to burst with the intensity of it.

The conversation flowed as always and, if it wasn’t because the hell of a month Aziraphale had had was still visible on his face, nothing would seem out of place. Well, maybe Aziraphale’s eyes were betraying him more than usual, falling to his chest whenever Crowley tilted to a side, knowing too well his whole pectoral was visible from the angel’s perspective. Only if he noticed Aziraphale was having dark thoughts and wanted to distract him, of course. Not that he was tempting him. Not at all. 

When they finished, they decided to spend the day out, since the angel seemed more cheerful now. They just returned to the hotel when it was already midnight, laughing, bodies tingling with the wine they had during dinner and the joy of being together. The room was dark, sparkling lines made with the moonlight on the water dancing all over the place. The laughs and cheerful conversation faded, once the door closed behind them.

Crowley stared at the angel, and he stared back, both of them sensing something heavy and real settling in the silence. He breathed in, his skin burning with the charged sensation of feeling lust and love at the same time now. It made him even more nervous than the very first time they had sex. Because, after such a day, after the year they’d had… It was a lot. A lot of feelings wanted to be freed, a lot of wants wishing to be burned. 

Gulping once, Crowley started to unbutton the half of his shirt that still covered him. Aziraphale took a shuddering breath, unavoidably looking down at his fingers for a moment.

“‘M gonna get into the pool,” Crowley said, his voice already husky. “And you can join me, if you want.”

He let his shirt fall to the floor, exposing his trunk, and proceeded to take off his belt, not without noticing the angel’s blush, which not even the darkness could hide. Crowley stopped to stare at him, getting undressed completely. Nevertheless, he gave him a quick glance, accompanied with a smirk, before walking out of the room and immersing in the pool. The water was warm and the pool’s lights were off, making the stars above more visible. Crowley waited, looking up, immersing to wetten his long hair and cool his head, feeling stupid for being nervous. Eventually, he heard Aziraphale’s soft steps, the water moving as he entered the pool and approached him. He turned around when he felt the angel behind him and the beautiful sight of him punched the air out of his lungs. 

“Hi,” Crowley mumbled, smiling softly, feeling the less nonchalantly he’d ever been.

“Hi,” Aziraphale said, looking fucking divine naked and under the moonlight. 

Crowley searched for his hand under the water, pulling him closer, until he was sitting over his lap. Both emitted a soft moan when their bodies glued in the embrace, slippery but warm. Their mouths found each other without a second thought, joining in an unhurried kiss, soft but with a hint of clear eagerness. Crowley caressed his back slowly, until he could hold onto his shoulders, moaning into the angel’s mouth when he felt his erection growing against his soft belly.

They barely managed to break the kiss, clinging onto each other as if their lives depended on it, no more able to hold back. Aziraphale’s eyes were dark, pleading, which sent a shiver all over the demon’s body, suddenly too aware of how hard he was as well.

Aziraphale caressed his face, pushing his wet hair back, looking at him more adoringly even. “You looked so dashing today,” he whispered. “You’ve always been so beautiful, my dear.”

“Ngk,” Crowley said, wanting to protest, but totally deserted by words by now. 

“Crowley…” He whined, hands lowering through his neck, placing on his chest, making the demon shudder. “I need to feel you. Make love to me,  _ please _ .”

Crowley examined his face as if he was seeing him for the first time, but with his heart was beating with a love as ancient as the world. A love that had saved the world. A love that would save it again, most probably. However, that night, it would exist in his most primary essence. It would be a love to save an angel. 

And wasn't it an irony, an angel asking a demon to make love to him? That a demon's love for said angel was the reason for the salvation of the world? That a demon  _ loved _ an angel? Wasn't it all, an irony? 

Sure. And Crowley wanted to dip in it, sink in it, be soaked by it until he couldn't feel himself alien to Aziraphale. He wanted to be two as one, finally,  _ finally _ . 

Crowley surged from the pool, demonic power making his slender arms hold Aziraphale against him, and captured the angel's mouth with the need of six thousand years. No matter if they had touched before, kissed and fucked. No matter if they had confessed and let all their feelings pour. He had the certainty that he'd never wear off his want for Aziraphale, would never burn out the need for him. 

One second later, he was laying the angel on the bed, bodies dry but burning, movements slow and gentle. Crowley kissed him, letting his adoration make every drag of his lips, every bite and every caress of tongue on tongue. Aziraphale whimpered and huffed, holding onto his back and curls with a tight grip. 

“I'll never leave again, my angel,” Crowley whispered between kisses, sensing the anxiety on Aziraphale's shaking fingers. “I promise.”

Aziraphale let out another pathetic sound, breaking the kiss to fix a pair of shiny eyes on Crowley, tears about to spill down his cheeks. The demon furrowed with a mix of concern and comprehension, cupping one side of his face and tracing his cheekbone with a thumb. He pressed a soft hiss on his nose, another on his forehead, just to look at him once more. 

“We'll take this as slow as you need, okay?” Crowley muttered, although vehemently. “You set the pace.”

Aziraphale exhaled raggedly, this time being him the one examining his partner's features. Suddenly, the hand in his curls detangled itself, a little snap was heard and, then, Crowley felt something changing between their bodies. 

He lifted himself on his arms as soon as he realised what Aziraphale had done. Looking down on the angel's body, he confirmed that the angel’s cock was gone, a cunt in its place. Immediately after, he returned his gaze to his face, now flushed with embarrassment. 

“I-I hope you don't mind… A different configuration,” Aziraphale stuttered. “I just… Don't want to wait.”

Crowley smirked devilishly, backing his body against the angel's again. “'Course I don't mind,” he mumbled, sensuality pouring out of him effortlessly. He lowered the hand on his face down, tracing his soft side, ripping a gasp, a shudder from him. Once it landed on his thigh, he grabbed it, backing it on his hips, rutting his erection ever so slightly against his clit. Aziraphale moaned softly and trembled. “I'd want to taste you later, if you do.”

These words seemed to ignite something in his eyes. “Oh, well… I, maybe… I can wait a couple more minutes,” he mumbled, face even more flushed. 

Crowley's grin broadened and he proceeded to lower his lips to the angel's jaw, kissing his way down until he was settled between his thighs. He shot a quick glance to Aziraphale as he anchored his own hands on his hips, making sure he was ready. Aziraphale nodded, squirming a little, hands clenching already at the sheets, and Crowley dropped his eyes to his new Effort. 

The brief time they had been able to be intimate like this, hadn't been enough to experiment. Crowley's mouth was already watering, his own Effort twitching with interest, just by thinking how much pleasure he could bring his angel like this. 

He lowered his head, covering his clitoris with his lips, just moving them gently over it. Aziraphale howled, arching and taking his hands to grab his hair again. Crowley felt a rush of hot electricity run through him, a moan escaping him unavoidably. He added his tongue to his work, licking with slowness, drinking from the angel's moans.

Freeing one of his hips, he took his fingers to his entrance, teasing it with supreme softness before entering two. 

“Crowley,  _ oh God _ ,” Aziraphale cried out pleadingly. 

He started to move them as he swirled his tongue, going straight to the point he knew would unleash his angel completely. And, just as expected, he did, almost screaming of pleasure. Five second later, he was surging from his position, pulling Crowley up to him and desperately crushing their lips into a kiss. Crowley followed, huffing and moaning, letting Aziraphale drive him to lay above again, drown him with kisses. 

“ _ Now _ , darling.  _ Please _ ,” Aziraphale asked, breathless and with his voice huskier than Crowley had ever heard it. “Please, fuck me.”

Crowley groaned, the angel's voice hitting him like a train, making his body shudder and tremble with desire. However, he pulled out another smirk. “Now you want me to fuck you?” He teased, breathless, lowering and talking near his mouth. Aziraphale let out a desperate sound, eyes sparkling with need. Crowley’s grin grew wider. “Oh, angel,” he said in a whisper, pressing a soft kiss on his lips. “Don’t worry. I’m gonna do both. I’m gonna fuck you until you forget what pain is, and I’m gonna show you how deeply I love you.”

“My dear,” he cried softly, hands pulling him closer.

Not wanting to torture his angel further, Crowley quickly reached for his cock, driving himself to the angel's entrance. With an easy movement of his hips, he slipped all the way in without effort. They both moaned loudly, clinging onto the other for support, Crowley grabbing one of his hands and pinning it against the mattress, Aziraphale clawing at his back. 

“ _ Fuck _ ,” Crowley whined, closing his eyes for a moment, feeling his head burning and clouded. “You're so hot.”

“That's  _ someone's _ fault, I'm afraid,” he breathed out and Crowley opened his eyes to fix them on him.  _ Bastard _ . 

Crowley growled. “Ngk. Give me your mouth,” he said, capturing his mouth roughly and starting to move his hips. 

They both moaned into the kiss, but didn't break it. Honouring his promise, the demon didn’t hesitate in thrusting hard and fast right away, devouring his lips as he did, drinking every moan and cry from Aziraphale. Even so, the sensations overwhelmed him as well, and he had to back away from his lips. Technically, they didn’t need to breathe, didn’t need to even moan, but it helped when every cell of your body seemed about to shatter under the pleasure. It was a little relief, one that, at some point, just seemed to fuel even more the imminent explosion.

Crowley felt his sanity slipping away with every drag in and out of the angel, shaking with emotion, surrounded by warmth, and wetness, and softness. He gripped his hand harder, dropped another hand to grip one of his thighs, growling because nothing was enough support. Gravity seemed to be pulling him down, lower, as if he was falling all over again. And, if he managed to keep his eyes open, he found Aziraphale’s eyes on him, always on him, bright with pleasure, adoration,  _ disbelief _ . He wasn’t sure he couldn’t stand that, couldn’t break apart, if he looked at him like that for eternity. Although, he’d rather live forever broken than deprived from that. Not again. He never wanted to be without Aziraphale.

He raised on his knees, grabbing Aziraphale’s hips and dragging him closer to his lap. The angel moaned openly and louder when Crowley resumed his movements and took his fingers to his clit, thumb rubbing it at the same time he thrusted. Aziraphale closed his eyes and tilted his head back, gripping the wrist of Crolwey’s hand still holding onto his hip.

“ _ Crowley _ ,” he cried out, sounding broken. “Crowley! Oh love,  _ please _ … Don’t stop!  _ Please _ .”

“Never,” he growled, breathless. “Let go, Aziraphale. I’ve got you. I’ve always got you.”

With a deep cry, arching his back, Aziraphale came, clenching and spasming around him. Crowley fucked him through it and stopped when he saw him writhing with overstimulation. Panting, heart swelling with love, he bent over him to cup his face, kiss him slowly and sweetly.

“I love you,” Crowley whispered, pressing his lips all over his face. 

Aziraphale blinked his eyes open, seeming dazed and far away, but titled his face to look at the place where they were still joined. “You,” he gasped, raising his eyes to the demon again. “You haven’t…”

Crowley smiled and pressed another kiss on his lips. “Don’t worry. I’m perfectly satissssfied.”

When he started to pull away, Aziraphale encircled his hips and pulled him in again. Crowley gritted his teeth, holding back a loud moan. Aziraphale furrowed, desperation returning to his expression. “No, please… I want you to feel you come,” he pleaded. 

That almost was all Crowley needed to come right then, but his dignity seemed to repress the impulse. Breathing in, he gave the angel a deep kiss, before pulling away and starting to move again, slower and deliberately this time. He couldn’t refuse his angel.

It took him just another minute to break down with a groan, trembling and collapsing over Aziraphale, head over his chest. Shaking with the aftershocks, he swayed internally hearing the angel’s rapid heartbeats, feeling his fingers combing his sweaty hair, an arm tightly rounding him. 

When he rose from his position, he looked at Aziraphale, who was looking at him again as if he was a unique marvel, trails of tears over his temples, shining even under the dark. Aziraphale pulled him to his lips, kissing him hungrily, and before Crowley could think of anything, he was riding the angel’s -miracled into existence again- cock.

  
  
  


They kept at it for hours, done it in every way they thought of, until they found themselves drained of the urgency, movements turning into slow, soft exploration. At some point, they had moved to the center of the bed, joined in the lotus position. Crowley groaned and came for the umpteenth time, voice completely hoarse by now, Aziraphale’s hand on his cock, and the angel came too, almost immediately. Their chests heaved, pants echoing silently in the room after hours of wanton sounds, and held each other into an embrace. They were sticky and sweaty, and their wings laid behind them, splayed and ruffled, barely able to move. 

Aziraphale had his face against his shoulder while Crowley had his forehead against his temple, fingers gripping softly his damp but still shiny curls. He was completely under the spell of the night, spent and full of Aziraphale’s love.

“Marry me,” he asked in a whisper, no shame, no demonic pride. He couldn’t be anything but open now. Embarrassingly open. “Marry me, the human way. With stupid flowers everywhere and with stupid traditions that don’t make fucking sense. Marry me, Aziraphale.  _ Marry me _ .”

Aziraphale backed away to look at him, eyes teary, face overcome with surprise and emotion. Crowley detangled his fingers of his hair and, all of a sudden, there was a ring between them, a black snake wriggling, its eyes shining bright red. He showed it to him, a pleading, waiting look on his own snake-like eyes, full golden now.

“Yes,” Aziraphale muttered, hugging him harder, capturing his mouth hard. “Yes, my dear,” he said with a shaking voice, not backing away from his lips much.

Crowley smiled, satisfied, and searched blindly for his hand while they kissed, managing to put the ring on him.

They fumbled a little, laughing, kissing, touching the other, and the wrestling made them fall on the bed, starting it all over again.   
  


**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Epilogue already posted! Click "Next Chapter"! <3


	8. Through all the hard times, I'm on your side

_ One year later _

Aziraphale gasped, surging from the bed, starting to cough and trying to breathe. The images of Crowley melting into holy water clouded his frantic mind and frozen him with desperation and confusion. It was dark all around him. It was dark, and he was alone, and…

“Shhhhh,” a voice soothed him, a hand on his face, a warm ring on one of its fingers. “It’s okay, my love. It’s just another nightmare.”

Arms curled around him, pulled him down and into a warm embrace. He saw a pair of golden eyes in the dark, next to him, and a shimmer of red hair, caressed by the faint moonlight. 

_ Crowley _ .

A bit of peace settles again in the angel’s mind. He calms down, just a little, memories of the last year grounding him. His demon husband smiles softly, kisses him sweetly, and he emits a little whine.

Everything’s alright. Crowley is here, in their bed, in their cottage at the South Downs. They came back from Greece a few days after Crowley returned, lived at the bookshop for a while and then got married, surrounded by their human friends, and brought a cottage for them. Life was calm, easy. They were free and together, and had everything they ever wanted and couldn’t have.

Even if nightmares still haunted him from time to time, it was fine. They would fade completely, one day. Meanwhile, Crowley would be there for him, to calm him, protect him as he’d always done.

Aziraphale hummed, nodding once, and curled against Crowley’s bare chest, sighing at his warmth.

“I love you,” the angel breathed out, closing his eyes again.

“I love you too, Aziraphale. Always will.”

He smiled, drifted to sleep again, with no fear. Just love.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hi everyone! <3 Finally, this is over!
> 
> I know it took me a few months to update but I was very blocked and now I’ve started a Master that’s leaving me very little time for anything else. Anyway, I managed to finish this! <3 I hope you enjoyed! Thank y'all who have commented and left kudos! 
> 
> I’ll be starting a new long-story for the Husbands soon, and I’m very excited about it, tbh!
> 
> Anyway, you can find me on [Tumblr](https://nuria-schnee.tumblr.com/)!
> 
> See ya! <3 And take care!


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